The great dinning hall had eight separate and very long tables running down it. The candle light gently played off the walls crating shadows of the eating and chattering students. The relief of the older students at being back, and the anxiety of the newer students. On an elevated level sat the numerous teachers. Over 50 teachers sat at this large table, all had separate class they taught. One teacher was given one class, and they taught that same class for ten years. A long time for student teacher bonding.

Many teachers teaching the newer students would be either those who would be teaching for the first time, or those that had just finished a generation of wizards. A sudden and chilling hush filled the large room as the gold man stood. The gold man moved with an elegance that belied his look. His skin itself was gold, from his face to his arms, he had a royal blue cloak with gold veins running across the cloth. At every moment his cloak shimmered and reflected the wondrous light. The man stopped before the tables, and lifted his hands in welcome to the students.

His voice broke out forth from his mask sounding metallic and with a faint echo "Welcome! I am Balthasar Gelt, the Grand Patriarch of the College of Magic." He lowered his arms at the end of his sentence, turning to pace back and forth slowly turning his gaze letting it roam from face to face. The cold, gold eyes staring into every new student as if trying to memorize every one in moments. "At the college, you will be taught to master your chosen art. Tomorrow you will go to your classes. All but the lores of life and beast have specified classrooms that you will enter. Life and beast shall be outside, beast you shall be at the edge of the east forest, and life you shall be on the grounds."

He stopped to face the student body only once and gave a loud clap "It is my dearest wish to see all you reach the master level. Try not to die." Silence filled the hall, and the Patriarch waved his hands and the plates and utensils floated into the air and out the room "Now off to bed. You will have a long day tomorrow"

((I did this so you all could get your introductory post in before school starts and meet your peers. Once you all "go to bed" I will start classes))

Jamie arrived at school in the afternoon. Or, well, about when the sun was desperately clinging onto the horizon. She walked up the stone steps, admiring the beauty of the college. Other students were all around, talking happily. She noticed that many had friends of the other Winds. That seemed weird to herNo not like she'd met people of other Winds.. but shouldn't they be sticking together? But that was just her opinion.
It was fairly obvious who was in which wind.. they were dressed eccentrically. Bright orange, pure white, or striped clothes. She was wearing simple, forest green. They also were boasting about the spells they knew - their friends soaked it up, admiring them. The fools. She kept walking.
And then some idiot bumped into her. On purpose. "Hi." A smirk spread on the guy's face as he leaned toward her. She went on, glowering. "H-hey! Wait!" But he didn't go after her. Yeah, that's what I thought.
After arriving into the building, she wandered around a bit. Jamie did want to get to her dorm, but she also wanted to explore a bit. Finally she arrived there with the other pyromancy students. They were also talking. Some of them seemd polite. She otherwise kept to herself alone, only watching each student carefully, trying to determine what they were like without saying a word.

((after Blazin Beard's post ^^))

Jamie listened to the Grand Patriarch's speech. His voice was unusually - metallic - without another description. "..and life shall be on the edge of the grounds.." she tuned him out. She didn't mean to, but all the excitement was getting her on her edge. And being next to this horribly chatty, overly excitable girl next to her.
"Try not to die." She felt a grin form on her face. She loved a challenge, and this college was looking pretty interesting.

She stood up, leaving the spotless table. The rest of the students started stretching, looking sleepy and content. Jamie slipped past some that were milling around. "Will you please move?" She said darkly to another student. He moved out of the way, looking hurt. Jamie frankly didn't care.

Once on her bed, she pulled the covers up over her. Everything was very .. comfortable. Warm. She closed her eyes and pulled the blanket to the bridge of the nose. Jamie slipped into the warm comfort of sleep almost immediately.

The trip to the great school was anything, but tranquil. Amber had asked her parents to accompany her, so she would not feel so alone. That feeling did not change, once she saw the school. The building was absolutely breathtaking. Glancing over the building, Amber noticed that many of the students were alone; meaning that they did not have their parents with them. A soft pink color crept up her cheeks, leaving a bright red in its path. The young girl smiled happily at her parents, before shooing them away. Hopefully, they would understand. Today was the day she would move on her own, without her parents help. With that in mind, Amber walked towards her new life.

Amber had placed her belongings in her room. It had taken her a couple of hours to find her place, but she found it eventually. She had even gotten a chance to meet a few students who also practiced with metal. They were kind enough to show her the way. They even pointed her towards the ceremony hall. So far, it seemed to be a very good start.

~During the Grand Patriarch’s speech~

Staring at the man on the elevated level, Amber could not take her eyes off of him. The glistening gold would attract any person. Grand Patriarch's glided across the platform gracefully. With every step he took, Amber was mesmerized. Amber had heard other students talk about Grand Patriarch. She heard that he was always draped in the finest metallic pieces or cloth. She even heard that he is a master of metal himself. Her heart raced. It felt like it was trying to beat out of her chest. She quickly looked down when the Grand Patriarch’s gaze came towards her table. There was no doubt in her mind that he was looking at the newer students. Especially those who follow the lore of metal.

After the announcements, there was a sense of worry lurking about. “Try not to die” echoed in the poor girls ears. Her hazel eyes stared down at her meal, as if the food would save her or provide her some sort of comfort. Unfortunately, it did not such thing. ‘What a way to welcome newer students’ she thought with a soft sigh. The other students did not seem bothered by the comment, which seemed odd to Amber. The young girl shivered a little, before scooping up food into her spoon, and then placing it into her mouth. Amber chewed and then swallowed her food, all the while; thinking of what the Grand Patriarch had said. She was not going to let fear get to her just yet. She was going to prove to herself and to others what she could do.

“Excuse me” she whispered to no one in particular as she stood up. She slowly moved away from the table, hoping no one would notice that she was gone. The thought of classes starting filled her mind. She was excited, but nervous at the same time. Amber slipped out of the doorway and made her way to her room. Tomorrow is going to be an exciting day. She wants to be prepared for it physically and mentally. A good night’s sleep should provide that.

Alexander was wide eyed and slack jawed as he stared up at the school , even dropping his bags as he simply stared at the amazing place. If nothing else it made Alexander wish he had brought nicer things , this seemed like no place for his peasant belonging or his cheap telescope. Shaking his head he snapped out of it , picking up his things and carrying them to his room (With the aid of directions from a few older students).

After slumping his things next to a bed , and setting up his telescope facing a window he clapped dust off his hands , going to look around and trying to figure his way around the school before he was sapose to eat. He found a few nook and crannys that seemed out of place and found one open court yard with a tree in the middle that he thought would make quiet the nice napping spot should he get any form of time off from school work. In his little exploration adventure he had also passed by what he had assumed was a student , a older looking girl , draped in black with pale skin. Passing his made him shudder for some reason and he even turned around and apolagized for doing so before quickly leaving. Thinking as he did 'Maby a student for the lore of death? Or shadow?...No , I should not make assumptions , perhaps I just got cold when I passed her.' Alex shook his head , making his way (with help once again) to go eat.

Alex sat down at his place and again whent wide eyed , a wide smile on his face and a bit of drool falling out of his mouth. The laughter of the student sitting next to him was a trigger for him , lunging forward and grabbing food , shoving it down his gullot at a speed that wounded up -scaring- the student that had just laughed. Bread , stew , meat , everything found it's way in to his stomach. He gave a glance up at the fancy looking teacher that was talking , still eating while he did. There was no one he would pass up this kind of feast for , he had never eaten so well in his life. "Try not to die." This hit Alex hard enough to make him cough , turning to the student beside him (After wiping his mouth off) "He did not mean that yeah? Is...a bad joke?" He shook his head , when his plate and utensils left the table he followed suit , thinking for a moment of following them before realiving how rude that would be. With a sigh Alex whent in to his room again , using the near by window to peir at the stars through his cheap telescope. Nodding he closed the window and kicked off his outer covering and boots. Flopping down in his bed with no particular way to sleep and quickly falling under.

Humming gently an old rural ballad about the start of a journey, Lewis wended his way towards the place he was told he'd likely spend the next ten years of his life. His light little knapsack contained all his essentials - a pad of paper, some charcoal to write or sketch with, a few changes of clothes and a few other odds and ends. Keeping a weather eye out for any landmarks he could use to find his way around in what is likely to be an incredibly mystifying first few weeks bore little fruit, but he reckoned he'd muddle through.

The third thing Lewis spotted about the college was all the other students. Some saying goodbyes to affectionate, proud but worried parents; some brooding alone. He grinned as he dropped himself into the latter category, thankful he wouldn't be thought of as as nervous as he was. Deep-down, behind the characteristic teenage bravado, though, he wished his parents had come with him. He dwelt a moment on their goodbyes; a teary hug from his mother punctuated by a stream of good advice which he only listened to with half an ear. A significant glance and a handshake from his father - mute acknowledgement of a significant step on the road to becoming a man, and finally ritual teasing from his two larger brothers and his little sister. They'd called him earthworm, but he hadn't minded. It was clear they'd be missing him in spite of it; and he resolved to call himself that as much as he could. It needn't be an insult he remembered his siblings by.

The second was the grandiose structure that dominated the extensive grounds. People seemed to be converging on it, so it made sense to flow with the crowd. Buffeted along, his height prompted questions from a couple of students who he presumed would be his fellow first years. Feeling embarrassed and blushing faintly, he had to admit to his ignorance of directions as the crowd drifted towards a cavernous hall.

Once there; he dithered a while - he assumed the eight tables were to differentiate between the lores, but wasn't entirely sure whether they were used. People seemed to be generally mingling, meeting and greeting old friends from every walk of life - every lore. This put him in a quandary, whether to try and identify the life table on his own - or just take any old seat and hope nobody chewed him out for it. That seemed like the best plan, really. So long as he found a seat quickly he could figure everything out later. Picking one near a bowl of edible seeds; he grabbed a handful while the students around him chattered away, introducing himself nervously when an opportunity presented itself.

Just when he was starting to get properly hungry; what looked like an imposing golden statue strode majestically onto the raised teacher's platform. He introduced himself as the grand patriarch, but an uneasy feeling started to gnaw at lewis' gut.
How was he turned gold? Am I likely to turn part-plant if I pass my classes? And did he just look me in the eye as he said try not to die?
Trapped in his own thoughts; Lewis barely noticed the food floating away, but when he looked back to the table; it had gone. Put on edge by the slight hunger and awash with a sense of foreboding that only accentuated the natural skittishness of his indoor persona; he excused himself and dashed out of the building for fresh air.

The land the college soared majestically above had naturally been the first thing he had noticed; and now he wandered through it. After regaining his composure, he noted the lateness of the hour. People would be likely to ask questions if he went back now, and he didn't know whether they'd like his answers. Deciding to make the best of where he found himself and remembering his classes would be nearby at any rate, he climbed into a likely looking tree and got comfortable in it's boughs; realising as he drifted off into sleep that he'd left his small bag under his seat when he left.
You numpty, earthworm...

Otter was galloping towards her new school. She was riding Xavier, her midnight black horse, and basically one of her only friends. She smirked at animal's blinding speed, they dodged in and out of trees quickly, then the pair saw the school. She choked up on the reins, slowing the beast to a trot. Then finally, when they reached the grounds she said an easy, "Wooaaah." The horse halting in repsonse, allowing her access to slide off from his back and land on the Earth, her converse firmly planted as she turned to remove her baggage from the horses saddle. She tended to ride bareback, but she had needed the extra room for things. 

She patted the horse's muzzle, kissing it then pointing him in the direction of home. Horses really were smart animals and he headed off into the forest, leaving Otto with only her voices for company. "What a nice school," Onyx hissed in her head. "I bet she gets kicked out after the first week!" Maleficent added, cackling wildly. Then there was Damian, he was literaly crazy. She hated when he took over her actions, it always meant big trouble. She winced at his vocal input, only because he was just so harsh. "She shall fail, I see it coming. Poor cunt won't last until the month is up."

She tried to ignore them, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She felt so exhausted, and she only wanted to find her room. She sighed, glancing back to the informitive map which told her where to go to find her room. 

She ended up there easily, mostly on accident, the whole way traveling down the hall she had figured she was going the wrong way. She smirked, seeing the numbers jump out at her and he slipped in the key, revealing her dorm for possibly the next ten years. Unless her schizophrenic split personalities were right all along.

She brushed that off, putting away her things quickly, then running for the noise that she had heard coming in. Everyone had gathered to eat, an he was late, as usual. She watched the golden faced man speak, staying standing, not really feeling in the mood to get aquainted today. She nodded, marking the spot in the forest that he prepared to have class, then snatched a turkey leg off some random table and smirked, shrugging at the person who gave her an odd look. If they thought that was weird, they had another thing coming if they had the chance to know the real Otter. 

She brushed her blue streaked bangs out of her face, taking a bite into her food as she found her way back the way she had came to her room. She could care less what others thought of her, if they would judge her for snatching a bite on the run, then they obviously were not worth her time. She chuckled, pushing the door open and setting the remainder of the food in a bit of foil. She could get hungry, but right now she was just about to pass put as she stood there. Her head slapped against her brought feather pillow and she curled up with it, quickly falling fast asleep.   

"Ohm this food tastes so goood!" Izhak had said, nearly devouring the feast that was layed on top of him, chipping away at the never ending feast of food. Other students looked at him with a sort of disgust but he didn't care. There was FOOD and a whole lot of it.
That was when the Grand Patriarch had made his speech, one of the only times in which Izhak ate the food slowly, though the other students beside him already had been soaked in pieces of food.

"Aw come on!" Izhak had compained as the dishes and utensils had floated away. It was obvious that he was going to master the beast element, after all he himself has acted more beast then man not just considering the look in his eye. He knew how to understand body language, he always fought with his own limbs, moving ike an animal but lastly he ate like an animal. Though Izhak had sulked, he grabbed al the food he can in his own two hands, stuffing what he can in his mouth to eat. Yeah, people gave him dirty looks but he can sure as hell kick anyone's ass.

Still, he escorted himself to his room, a quiant and rather dissapointeing room with a single bed. Izhak for the most part didn't feel like sleeping but after a couple of bread rolls went out like a light, his last thought of wonde for what would happen in his first class.

Magnus looked up to the magnificent building, the grandiose arches and wonderous windows calling out to the students milling underneath it. While other students gawked at the sight, Magnus frowned. 'Reminds me of the castle back home...' he thought, giving a sigh. He proceeded to find his way through the crowd, eventually finding himself in a large feasting hall with eight large oak tables. Magnus sighed again; another reminder of old home. The food, at least, was mostly simpler, being consisted of fresh fruits, loaves, stew, and turkey, though there were also some fancier desserts that he scoffed at. He put a few pieces of bread and fruit in his pocket for any friends he might meet during the night.

He began to lighten up, though, as others began to pool in, one sitting next to his right. He and the other began to talk and joke around, bringing Magnus into a fit of laughter. His fit was interrupted as the boy to his left dove into the food. He was a bit disgusted, but also logically wondered how the boy did not choke. He shrugged and began to slowly eat. As a golden man who called himself "Balthasar Gelt, the Grand Patriarch of the College of Magic", his headmaster of sorts, he supposed, stood, the large doors opened as a girl with black hair, interrupted by blue streaks, entered and grabbed some food. He gave her a bit of an odd look; why didn't she sit down with the rest of them? He didn't really pay attention to the golden man, only catching where his class was and that he should--

"Try not to die." Magnus stopped chewing for a second while the student to his left coughed, turning to him. "He did not mean that, right? It's...a bad joke?" the student stammered.

Magnus wiped the boy's spit off of his cheeks, stating with a frown, "I don't think he's the joking kind." He looked back to the doors; the girl was gone. He felt disappointed for some reason. 'Ah, well.' He sighed as the food disappeared and the students began to leave. He got up and left with them, noting a bag on the floor. He was going to go back to pick it up, when a girl darkly said, "Will you please move?" His face gave a look of hurt; he hadn't meant to get in the way. He went to apologize, but the girl had already stormed away. He looked at the bag again, then decided it was best to leave it their for the owner to find in the morning.

After much difficulty, Magnus finally found his room, as inscribed on the key he was given. Of course, the room was unlocked, allowing him to shuffle in tiredly with his bag without much hassle. He let the bag drop, then flopped onto the bed, sighing. He suddenly heard a squeak. He looked up to see a brown mouse sitting atop his bag, looking up at him. "Harry!" He exclaimed happily as the mouse scurried onto his shoulder. "You little rascal, you followed me all the way here?" The mouse gave a squeak in response. Magnus laughed and pulled out a piece of bread he saved, tearing off a small piece for the mouse. He looked around the room, seeing a sudden glint atop his bag; a key, inscribed with a number not his own. Magnus gave a groan. He'd find the owner in the morning. He was too tired at the moment. He set the rest of the bread on a table near the bed and flopped onto it again, quickly falling asleep.

Anxiously fiddling with the fraying hems of her worn dress, Blythe currently found herself baring a practical hole into the half touched plate before her. The entire time that others had spent socializing and feasting, she had receded further and further away from those that surrounded her, until the only thing she seemed able to look in the eye was the broiled fish of her plate. The undoubtedly unnerving sensation of having a deceased fish's eyes peering vacantly into one's own was probably not helping the girls fluctuating psyche any either.

It was just too much to handle at once for a country bumpkin; the ornate decor, the surplus of food, the expansive walls of stone, hell, just the abundance of magic all around was enough to overwhelm the ignorant young woman. Rather than facing the situation head on and acclimatizing to the foreign environment like any normal, sane individual would probably do, Blythe had taken to simply ignoring all the wonders and crowds that surrounded her.

Thus far, it wasn't exactly going as well as she had hoped, a persistent pint sized girl, or so Blythe assumed by the blurry image of movement she'd caught out of the corner of her eye, seemingly worked to create the loudest disruption she could possibly manage. Currently, Blythe was doing a horrendous job of resisting the urge to look. What if she was choking? Or eating someone? Or some other horrible thing that could only be implied from the disturbing noises the girl emitted. The endless possibilities tormented the girls morale, until finally, she cracked.

Against her better judgment, Blythe finally shot a glance to the direction of the offending noise and immediately came to regret such. Apparently the noises that had been emanating from the girl were, in fact the results of ingestion. Not of a human, luckily, but rather of an implausible portion of food stuffed seemingly without end into her gullet.

Whatever remnants of an appetite she had was quickly obliterated and a nauseated Blythe did the only thing she could to resist purging the meager morsel of food she had managed to force down: snapped her attention to the entirely other side of the room. Just in time to spot the entrance of a most peculiar man.

From what little she actually knew about the place she would be spending hopefully the next decade of her life at, the dark haired girl could only assume the man to be The Grand Patriarch, Balthaisa...Balthasa...Balthasar, Balthasar Gelt, that was it. An assumption quickly proven correct as the man made his dramatic introduction, scanning the crowds of students intensely as he did so. As the powerful man's gaze passed over her sector, Blythe sank visibly in her chair, dreading to gain the attention of such an imposing figure.

His next few words, however, struck her as a harsher blow than anything that had come yet: "Try not to die". How wonderful, it seems my life expectancy just got reduced by at the very least three decades, magically. The girl bitterly assessed to herself, mind racing with every conceivable brutal death she could manage to achieve with her legendary, non-existent luck. Well, at the very least, I should be able to spend my final days studying the Wind of Ghyran in nature rather than cooped up in a stone prison. With that oh so comforting thought in mind and the realization that all the other students were beginning to disperse to their bunks, Blythe drudged her way back to the bed she had claimed earlier that day.

Tomorrow would no doubt be as incomprehensible, overwhelming, and dreadfully terrifying as today had been, but at least by then what seemed so strange and confusing today would barely phase her; she'd just have to take the entire situation one day at a time and, should her life not unexpectedly be cut short, Blythe would only struggle in her new life, as opposed to drowning, as she currently was. Sleep, in the meantime, would do wonders at easing her mind.

Diana stood in awe at the building before her, unable to draw away her widened black eyes from its grandiose stature. Of all the "away schools" she had been sent to, this one had to be the most extravagant. Quickly regaining herself, she briskly walked down a lavishly decorated corridor and turned into a huge room with many different doors. Looking to make sure the number on the door matched the one she had been told, she found and unlocked the door to her new living arrangements for the year. Cautiously opening the door, she sighed a breath of relief to find that there was no roommate with her. Completely relaxed now, she throws her bags by her bed, and with a promise to unpack later, goes to the to the dining hall she had been shown previously by some other students.

If there was one thing Diana wasn't going to do, it was to walk in the dining hall and immediately be seen as a new student. First impressions were extremely important to her, and she refused to have hers be, "Oh, look at that lost new girl." Upon approaching the doors, she lifted her head up and tossed her red hair to the side, beginning to walk at a deliberate pace, and immediately finding one of her favorite spots to sit at (in the very back of the room near a corner). Not entirely in the mood for eating, she mostly picked at her plate, looking around and easily distinguishing the new, awkward students from the experienced ones, eagerly showing each other new spells they'd learned and made up during the time off. Suddenly, the crowd hushed as a man covered in gold armor began speaking, his bellowing now interrupting her thoughts.

The man of gold, who had introduced himself as Balthasar Gelt, began speaking about the school. Halfheartedly listening, Diana picked out the important parts of his dialogue, barely listening to the rest. Four words from his speech continually rang in her ear as they were dismissed to their chambers. 'Try not to die.' In her room, Diana smirked to herself almost cynically at the thought of his words. This school was obviously going to be one of the toughest, and most amusing challenges she's ever had in her life. After a short time unpacking, she got into bed and pulled the covers over her, awaiting the next day's challenge with anticipation.

The young man knelled before the altar to his god, in the midst of the empty church. Shadow draped pews and the pools of light cast by the odd candle or torch his only companion. Through the stained glass windows of the altar moonlight bathed him in silver tinted hues of the rainbow, highlighting his silver almost white eyes. His head was held low in prayer, his words moving alongside his silent plea. What exactly this young man prayed with for with such obvious earnest was anyone's guess. But there were those who knew and one walked behind unbeknown to the silver eyed devotee. He like the young man was clothed in simple white robes although the cross at his throat was gold and not the pewter of the young's man's.

" It troubles you doesn't it my child." The elderly man in his white robes spoke in a calm and gentle voice that bespoke the kindness only a father figure could muster. " The Lord creates and gives according to his plan Sharaun."

" I know Your Grace but why magic. Power does nothing but corrupt and I would sooner lose my life then be corrupted by this curse in my veins." The silver eyed young man known as Sharaun responded with such bitterness it seemed he might break into tears or break something. He clutched the pewter cross at his throat, it's weight a reminder of the faith he had sworn to.

" It is said all men can withstand torment but if you wish to test the character of a man give him power, then his true nature will shine forth." The Archbishop now revealed spoke once more in patience, as if teaching or making a point. It was an old game between Sharaun and the Archbishop. " You have spent every day of your life since the age of six here learning of His way. That is all there is to it Paladin, for there is no other man I'd trust to undertake your test."

"Paladin, there was nothing I wanted to be more. But how can I serve His will while trapped in a Collage that teaches darkness and death to it's students. Why is such heresy allowed Your Grace, it goes against his will." Sharaun answered his patron's words.

"His way is that of mercy Sharaun, no matter what some zealots would have you believe." The Archbishop answered with a weary sigh as if he had explained this countless times. which he had. " To lead those astray back onto the righteous path through guidance and example not outright slaughter and the point of a sword. In the trials ahead you can serve His will thus."

"If it his will then so be it your Grace, I will serve as thus. But I am not affirmed Your Grace, and now I will never be." The silver eyed young man replied with a nod,finally glad to have settled the ghost haunting his thoughts.

"It is true you are not the priest or paladin you wanted to be but one can still show the way." The Archbishop answered with gentle smile that lit up even the shadow draped corners it seemed. " Now go to sleep, for the Dawn comes quickly..."

" And with it His Glory." Sharaun replied,the traditional farewell between members of the faith both of them were sworn to.

-------------------------------

Sharaun looked at himself in the mirror, seeing his long and lean build clothed in the plain olive tunic and loose pants he wore as work clothes. They were coarsely made, designed to be strong and last long not to be beautiful. They along with his staff,wooden sword, and a few spare outfits were his only possessions. The ninth son of a merchant prince Sharaun could of lived a life of ease but swore away his future wealth to serve the will of his God. In his pockets were a few spare coins of no great value, the pittance the lay brothers of the faith were granted. For only in his sixteenth birthday could Sharaun become a sworn brother and train for the path of a priest or a paladin in earnest.

His pack when made was a small thing, his life's possessions a burden even a babe in swaddling clothes could have likely carried. His wooden sword and pewter cross on his neck the only real items he cherished for they were gifts of the Archbishop. The pewter cross, the basest of metals to symbolize his low ranking within in the Church and humility. The wooden sword when it became clear his long legs and arms were suited to a warrior's strength. It was bent, the handle splintered and the blade cracked from the numberless blows in sparring and against the straw dolls. But it was the only weapon he'd been allowed for he was not a sworn brother yet and he lacked the coin to replace it. His staff, a recent purchase, was crafted of white ironwood and was equal parts walking stick and weapon. It had drained Sharaun's meager funds but the Archbishop had advised him to buy a staff and never said why.

Now was the time for him to leave the seminary, the people he had come to loved and hate on occasion. The Grey haired master of arms Shawn, who had mercilessly taught the would be paladin with the flat of a blade. The ever patient Miranda of the golden locks and great beauty who taught Sharaun the art of music one ear screeching lesson after another till the silver eyed young man could sing and play like an angel. The fatherly Archbishop who always made time for every single one of his students somehow. It had been all the home he really had known or even desired, his brothers scoffed at his chosen path of poverty and his Father harbored an unspoken resentment that Sharaun's birth had cost his wife's life. Though at least Baezen visited from time to time and was kind spoken whenever speaking with his youngest son.

And so he gathered his few belongings the pack as light as his stomach as he walked from the bunk bed lined dormitory and into the path of the Archbishop.

" I was hoping to see you before you left." The fatherly figure said before all but rushing Sharaun into his office a floor up and several hallways later. Closing the door behind him the Archbishop strolled towards his desk where sat a thick package wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with hemp string. Cutting the string with his belt knife the elderly cleric revealed blazing white clothing. The half jacket and cloth fauld of a paladin trainee with it's steel lined edges. Steel the metal of a sworn brother.

" The council decided long and well into the wee hours of the morning and it was decided that you should have a gift to see you well on your way. And so it was decided that you shall have sworn status a year earlier. Remove your pewter cross."

A shocked Sharaun did as he was bid,feeling a sense of wonderment as it all sank in. Handing the Archbishop his pewter necklace the ninth son of Baezen watched as the steel cross of a sworn brother was set over his neck. Wrapping the beaded chain properly around his neck the young man put on the half jacket and cloth fauld of blazing white and steel edging.

" I in the authority granted to me dub thee Sharaun Kil'ghym, ninth son of Baezen, a sworn brother under His will and with His blessing. May you find the path you were born to walk, under His light. What say you Brother Sharaun?"

"I shall serve His will in all things, His will is my law and through it I will act honorably in all things. His mercy, His strength, and His will are all I shall ever want or need. For He is my shepard and I shall want for nothing. My path is under His light and ever shall be. In His name I pray." Sharaun replied, knowing the words but still not understanding them.

"So it shall be." The Archbishop replied slipping the steel gauntlet of a paladin trainee over the young man's left hand. Ruffling the chestnut hair of his student he returned to his desk. "Study well and never forget what you have been taught Sharaun. The path before you is dark but you have His light to guide you and shall not falter as long as you hold true to the path shone on. "

With that the informal swearing was over and Sharaun left his home for good, the church was no longer his path. All because of the magic coursing in his veins. It was a deep blow but Sharaun reminded himself it was His Will alone that carried him, the fates willing he'd prove strong enough for his burden.

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The building and grounds were over done to him, the greed and opulence of magic plain to see for his eyes used to the simple grandeur of the Church. There wood,metal,and glass were built in easy pride to house Him. Here the corruption of magic was clear for Sharaun to see, the aura of malevolence and of evil palpable. A strong desire to flee this dark place was racing through this fifteen year old. But he knew to do so would be no better, for he would be hunted down like a dog and likely killed. So squaring his shoulders he made his way into the building, hoping leading those within to the light would prove within his strength.

The hallways were no better, more pointless opulence and lavish greed. The price of the flooring alone could have fed a city full of hungry children, the price of the decorations could have housed nearly every single homeless person in the world. " Indeed the corruption of magic is plain to see, what sort of person builds a house of gold while people starve." He spoke with a sad tone as the task before him was proving great indeed. But it was His will that found Sharaun here, the silver eyed mage would not fail him. And he swore never to fall into the corruption the wealth around him showed.

Making his way through the pointless opulence of the building he found the grand dining hall, catching the tail end of a speech of a man covered in head to foot golden garments. Even his face was hidden behind the precious metal, and suddenly Sharaun had a good idea who was responsible for the criminal wealth of the the Collage. His words were hardly the comforting ones of the Archbishop.

Then again the seriousness of magic is hardly one that should be underplayed. Some of us will likely prove too weak to control the power within all of us. Sharaun thought, hating the pessimal tone in his thoughts. But the silver eyed young man was an avid student, learning much of history in particular. The course of history was littered with mages who wrought horrors with their magic or were consumed by it. Both paths lead to much suffering and was the basis of his hatred for magic.

The speech over Sharaun left, caught at the edge of the body of students making their way out. Some smiled and nodded when they saw the steel cross and clothing of a sworn brother, others even bowed slightly before walking away. It made him feel uncomfortable, this attention to his status, a false status really as he no longer was in clerical training.

Finding his way out of the crush Sharaun made his way to the dormitories, a series of long hallways with many doors leading off into no doubt more pointless opalescent decor. And finding the room assigned to him was saddened to find his guess right on the money. Deciding some battles were not worth fighting right now He carefully removed his clothing, leaving on his smallclothes and steel cross only. Laying on the silk sheeted bed he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

((I am not waiting for the last two people as I am tired of waiting. I am going to start classes, if you want you can include something about breakfast in your post but thats up to you))

Monday

-Lore of Fire Class-

The dark room was filled with braziers burning with an unearthly flame. In the center of the classroom was a large fire burning over 8 feet high burning.. nothing. It was in a large basin with nothing at the center, the fire was merely there. A large man stood before the fire his bright orange hair looking almost as fiery as the flames before them. He wore a large blood red robe with small torches on them burning brightly. The man turned to the class in attendance, a large smile plastered across his face.

"Can you feel it! The passion of the fire. Breath it in now" He said his body alight with excitement. He made a scene of breathing in deeply waving his hands in front of his face to better get a smell of this invisible substance. "The winds of magic. None burn more brightly than ours!" He said to the classroom filled with roughly 30 students all wearing the same red robes. It was mandatory for students to wear their robes when in class and in duels. A badge of honor some called it. The man turned and waves his hands flames came from the fire to fly around the classroom, touching the students but not burning them.

"I am Korin Farthad. You will call me Master from now on." The flames went back to the great fire, and Korin turned to the class. "Fire... comes from within. It is in the breath" To demonstrate he took a deep breath and than exhaled onto the large firing sending it bursting into flames and capturing over a third of the class within the flames, but when they receded as before no one was harmed "To control the flames. That is what we will work on this week. Cup your hands" He commanded and his actions followed his commands. "Now, imagine the fire deep within you and bring it out. Picture it dancing on your palm, picture it." His voice softened as he spoke. He did not tell them that the fire would burn their hands, but they must learn through experience. Once they learned to control the flame they could tell it who and what to burn and who to not.

"Practice this, and come back Wednesday. I want to see your progress. You are free to leave, if you have any questions feel free to ask" He dismissed them with a wave of his hand, turning his back on them to stare into the fire.

-Lore of Metal-

The classroom was more a forge than a class. There were no seats, great piles of metal ingots spotted the room and many students used them as seats, tools such as prongs, hammers, etc where hanging on the walls. The old man leaned heavily on a brass cane his long beard swaying with his moments as he turned to look at his new class. His class was small with only 8 people being in it, which fit since there was only 8 forges. "Welcome, Elrond Torn is my name." He had a very soft voice, and he turned to look each of his new students in the eyes.

"Forge me a sword." He limped away using his cane to hold him up as he lowered himself onto a pile of ingots leaning over so he didnt hurt his back. That was it, he left no room for more.

-Lore of Beats-

The young women was clothed, if you could call it clothes, in rags revealing much of her body. She had a bright smile on her face as she waved for her students to come and sit down in front of her. When the students did, well most some wanted to show their rebellious side and stood, she clasped her hands "Hello! I am Alexandria, you can call me Alex if you want" she added shyly. It was obvious it was the first time she had ever taught a class and didnt know quite how to interact with her students.

She was extremely nervous and almost stuttered "W-well, this week I want you all to go into the forest" She said with a cheerfullness that was hard to fight. "You will be in there until I say you can leave! I will not be getting you food, so you will have to find it. Please don't die" She asked tear eyed "I dont want my first students to die.." With that she motioned for the forest "I will be watching!"

-Lore of Light-

The classroom of light.. Did not look like a classroom. It had weapons both metal and wooden hanging on the walls, a padding meant for wrestling and fighting, padded gloves, training equipment.. and at the center a large bald headed man covered in heavy metal armor, but the worst thing was the large sneer he had on his face. He glared at every student that entered his class. "Disgusting" The man said spitting on the ground. "Filthy, My name is Luther Huss, you will call me sir." He said pacing back and forth in front of the students. His glare traveled upon each student, looking into their eyes.

"Start running. Don't stop until I say." He commanded, the kids looked at eachother in confusion, and the man lifted up a very large hammer from the floor and slammed it down on the ground "I said Run! Maggots!" Most of the kids bolted, while a few others took a late start, but they where running.. albeit a little confusingly. Luther leaned on his hammer, watching the kids run with that same disgust and glare... "Filthy"

((I will tell you when to stop))

-Lore of Heavens-

The old man was sitting in a chair inside his "classroom". His classroom was on top of one of the Colleges many towers open to the sky, although the stars had not yet come out to show their brilliance. The students milled about sitting in the chairs left out for them. Each of them watched their new teacher, unsure of what to expects. The old man smiled at the class and leaned forward. "I am.. Lexicor Alandor. You may call me Alandor, Mr.Alandor, Master, or whatever you fancy" his voice was soft and raspy filled with what would seem to be experience and patience.

He gently took out a old wooden box and pulled the lid off. Inside were numerous scrolls all old and withered, almost as old looking as the teacher himself. "You.. will all take one. When next we meet, I want to see how much of these star maps you have learned. To use heavens, we must know the heaven" His raspy voice continued "I have faith in all of you, so come and take your scrolls. If you ever need me, I shall be up here every night."

-Lore of Shadow-

The classroom itself was dark and gloomy. Only a few candles could keep lit the vast room. The students walked around talking to each other all excited for their new class. The candles started to flicker and bursting forth from the door was a flock of ravens. Some kids stared stupidly with others scream, the smart ones ran for cover. Each of the ravens started to tear and peck at the students earned screams and whimpers of pain, but before anyone could get seriously hurt the ravens disappeared and sitting on a students chair was a dark haired woman. She wore a rather revealing robe that was dark compared to her pale skin creating a very interesting comparison.

"Welcome!" the dark haired women exclaimed with a large smile. The students looked down at their previous wounds and scratches to find.. nothing. Just smooth unbroken skin. The woman stood up and walked around the students "Illusion. We strike the mind not the body. Break the mind, break the body. That is the essence of shadow, its much more enjoyable." She leaned across a young boy smiled at him "Dont you think handsome?" Before the boy could respond she pushed herself off "I am Night, I shall be your instructor from now on!" She said as flashy as before.

In her hand dark knives formed "We are going to play a game. I am going to turn off the lights, and you all are going to run around. If you make the slightest noise, or I see you than I throw a knife. It wont kill you, but It will hurt." The lights turned off creating utter darkness in the room, but one last sentence came out, almost purred out "And careful, I dont miss"

-Lore of Life-

The clearing was beautiful to say the least. Birds were chirping in the trees and with every soft blow of wind the meadow would dance. In the center stood a old man swathed in gray. As the students stood in the meadow, the only man did not turn merely stared lost at the sky. This continued for almost 20 minutes before a student finally got the courage to tap the man on the shoulder "Um.. are you ok?" the student asked.

The old man turned surprised and at the sight of the students smile. "Oh, hello. I am.." there was a silence almost as if he forgot his own name "Orion, I think" He waved to the students to come closer "Come, Come. Sit down" He himself plopped down on the ground and patted the area around him "Come, the grass does not bite"

When the students, or at least most, sat he looked at each in turn. "Oh, interesting class this year. Lots of cute girls, the guys this year are lucky. Yes, Yes, lucky indeed" He gave a soft hmm sound as he thought "What should be out first lesson?" He asked the students. "What do you want to learn?"

-Lore of Death-

The dark haired woman walked down the hall of the classroom. It had small rabbits sitting on every table top just looking. Stopping she turned and looked around the classroom her eyes dull and void "I am Teresa. Kill the Rabbits with your hands. You have till Wednesday" With that said, she walked out the classroom. For her it was a test to see how many students could stomach the lore.. She would not cuddle murderers.

~~~[A/N: This happens before breakfast]~~~

Taptaptaptap.

Magnus groaned as he heard the noise.

Taptaptaptap.

Sighing, he sat up, removing the blankets from over himself. He rubbed his eyes and looked to the source of the noise. A raven pecked at the glass window. Magnus smiled. "Thanks, Poe." He got up and began to get dressed. "Meet me in the courtyard."

The raven gave a caw and flew off.

Harry suddenly gave a squeak. Magnus looked down; the mouse stood atop the key that Harry had found last night.

"Oh!" Magnus picked the key up. "I forgot about that! We should return this key to its owner." Magnus, now fully clothed, patted his shoulder. Harry scurried up, sitting and giving a happy squeak. Magnus then went in search of the room that matched the key. It took him a good while, but he eventually came to the right number. "FInally," he muttered, opening the door. "Hey, I think you lo--"

The room belonged the black-and-blue haired girl that he had seen last night. He knew instantly because she was in the room, changing. She had slipped out of her night-clothes right before he had entered, revealing her bare bosom to him.

It took his brain a second to figure out the situation.

He turned a deep red as he fumbled to close the door, dropping the key on the floor. "I'm sorry!" he yelled through the door.
"I'm sorry!" Embarrassed beyond belief, he left, his face a color that a tomato would envy.

~~~[Classtime]~~~

The raggedly-clothed woman, smiling as if she were the sun, waved her students over. She introduced herself as Alexandria, and seemed quite nervous. 'Perhaps she's new, too,' Magnus thought with a small laugh. He looked over to his classmates; the streaks of blue interrupting black showed the same girl from the morning incident. Magnus felt his face start to heat up, when she looked over in his direction. Magnus stared down into the dirt, trying to listen to the teacher, continiously thinking, 'Please don't see me, please don't see me, please don't see me...'

Alex then motioned them toward the forest. "I will be watching!" Magnus stood and gave a look of confusion, then shrugged and walked into the forest, Harry squeaking happily as Poe swooped down and landed on the boy's head.

Jamie had been the third to arrive in class. She had sat, leaning forward on her elbows, eyes gleaming as they stared into the fire. It was beautiful.. the waves of billowing flame, one upon another. She could see things in the fire, contorting as they lifted higher and higher..
It took a moment before she realized the professor was talking. Her attention was averted to him as he spoke. She made a mental note to call him "Master" from now on. She noticed he was like herself. Demanding.
"Fire... comes from within. It is in the breath." She blinked as he exhaled and a burst of fire rushed over the students, though none were affected besides a small gasping sound.
"To control the flames... That is what we will work on this week. Cup your hands." Jamie did so, like every student. "Now, imagine the fire deep within you and bring it out. Picture it dancing on your palm, picture it." His voice softened considerably. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Nothing happened. She opened her dark eyes again, disappointed.

"Practice this, and come back Wednesday. I want to see your progress. You are free to leave, if you have any questions feel free to ask." He waved his hand, an obvious dismissal.
So she had Tuesday off? Jamie stood - the were no questions to ask, so she walked out, staring at her hands. Her robes shimmered behind her as she walked up the steps. So I have to imagine the fire, she thought slowly.

She arrived at her room, sitting down and thought long and hard. She imagined her very soul.. no, not a silvery orb.. a flickering orange circle. Yes. Then she imagined that power and magnified it, by ten, by a hundred. She then immediately took that and imagined the power and heat on her cupped hands. "Ow!"
She stood up suddenly, blowing on her palms. "What was that?!" She demanded, as if her hands would reply. Jamie looked around.. had she been bitten by something? No. She could now see the shining red patch on her hands. Realization flooded her. "Oh."

By the end of half an hour, both hands were very painful, and were completely red. She moved them gingerly, but there was a smile of satisfaction on her face. The attempts after that first time had been even more painful. But she hadn't stopped. Am I doing something wrong? I don't understand..
After the eleventh time, the pain didn't matter. She wanted to see the fire. Even if it made the other students giggle when they heard her say "ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow." repeatedly.
"I'll work Tuesday," she decided. She turned her palms over, and flexed her fingers. "The flames were perfect."

Alex woke up rather early , his excitement had acted like a alarm for him to get up and upon doing so he quickly put his boots , robes and other clothes on , wrapping his silver cross chain around his neck , grabbing his telescope and some basic school tools (Parchment , ink well , feather pen , a few stones to hold his partchment and notes in place.) and quickly left his room and roommates behind. Grabbing a quick breakfast of bread and soup filled Alex more then enoguh before he headed off to class (With the directions given by a few students).

Alex was one of the first people in his new class , excited and a bit worried about who his teacher would be. He had arrived carrying his telescope and some poor mans parchment and writing tools , his father had taught him how to read and write and he had since then gone on to learn more himself. When his teacher spoke Alex tilted his head , milling over the old and wise mans words carefully before putting his things down , going to the front of his class , smiling at the teacher , giving a light bow and speaking. "Thank you for this chance to learn Mister Lex."

With that he took one of the old scrolls carefully before going back to his seat , opening it and after glancing it over he moved his chair back , sat on the floor and started to copy the star map on to his own parchment pieces , his telescope was sitting beside him , set up for when the stars came out but Alex seemed almost determined to spend his day on top of the tower , copying maps and looking at constalations to figure out where each map represented and what each grouping of stars represented.

The dawn came, flooding through the eastern facing windows, drenching everything in the bright golden red omnipotent glory of His will. Awake before even the first sweet notes of bird song echoed Sharaun all but leaped out of his silk sheeted bed. It had been a night full of strange dreams, then again so had every night since the winds of magic channeled themselves through him. The silver eyed would be Paladin strolled to the windows to take in the sight of the dawn lit grounds of the Collage of Magic. The place looked no better after sleeping on it and that disturbed the young man more then anything so far. What foulness lingered beneath this gilt surface to affect him." The corruption of magic must be great indeed to leave this place covered in such an aura." He muttered to himself,still hating the curse in his veins.

But for good or ill Sharaun was trapped here,locked away by divine law and well founded fear. He longed for the freedom the life of clerical and martial studies granted but did not blame his jailers. It made sense to the mage to keep the danger of magic free of the lives of the common folk. The young man knew his faith would keep him from the path of corruption but the same could not be said of his fellow students. From merely watching them he gathered much, not enough to write life stories by enough to build a gut feeling. The rest of his life seemed to be one walked through the valley of the shadow of death indeed.

Sharaun had his shepard though and would not want. So he took a deep breath of the clear dawn air and made his way to where he had set his clothes the night before. Slipping into a fresh set of black clothes, the ever present loose tunic and pant, He adjusted the steel cross hung upon his neck and made his bed. Then reverently laid the white half jacket and cloth fauld of a paladin trainee on followed by the steel gauntlet. Only the left one he possessed for a trainee earned their armor piece by piece. Their training was done when a full suit was their's to wear. Of course locked in the Collage of Magic he'd have no chance to earn a suit of armor but it mattered not. It was a gift to see him well off, it's weight a reminder of his faith and path. The last thing he grabbed was his white ironwood staff, it no doubt would raise some questions but Sharaun felt naked without some sort of weapon and the staff was better then a beat wooden sword.

Properly clothed and his room tided up the silver eyed mage left for breakfast. This early in the morning few besides the cooking staff seemed up. A few bleary eyed students looked at him with wan smiles, unable to believe they woke up this early. Sharaun himself was little affected by it, as a lay brother of the Church he had woken up early all his life. The only thing odd was the fact a long list of chores wasn't laid before him. Usually right now he'd either be weeding the fields or feeding the horses to keep them quiet as he cleaned their stalls. Instead he ate in silence as was his wont. The students of the seminary had little time for idleness and so meals were ate in silence. For there always seemed more work to be done then hours in a day.

The food was well done, though like everything far too rich for his tastes. In the Seminary breakfast was little more then fresh bread and porridge with fresh milk to wash it down. Here the cooks seemed determined to make dishes rivaling a King's feast table. But choking it down with the grace of silence Sharaun left the breakfast hall as more students flooded in. They jostled for space, no doubt determined to eat before class started. The hustle and bustle made the young man uncomfortable for life till now had been lived in the quiet ease of those who lived life at a steady pace.

Realizing that these students were to be his fellows for the rest of his life Sharaun sat down at a table were a few of the students wore crosses like his.

" The Dawn has come." One of them said, a female of about his height, it was the traditional way members of the faith greeted each other.

"And His glory shines on another day." Sharaun replied, the traditional reply while taking sight of the woman. She was like him a sworn sister, steel was the metal of her cross. Which meant she like him had either gotten sworn status earlier or was a year older then him. He had to admit she was beautiful, golden hair and bronzed skin. Her eyes a startling shade of bright green.

"It is good to see another follower of His Light." She spoke with a smile before darkening as several other students passed by." Too many find themselves corrupted by the allure of evil, we may be mages but that does not mean we should consort with demons."

" Indeed the Lore of Death is not of His making." Sharaun replied with a vigorous nod, unable to contain his disgust of the topic.

"Which only means this Collage teaches evil ways. A heresy that deserves punishment ." She said, that bright smile crossing her face once again.

" The sword should only be drawn when all other options have been exhausted." Sharaun spoke with a heavy sigh, trying to live up to the Archbishop's faith in him.

"Perhaps." Was all she would say and Sharaun had the distinct feeling he had failed her test.

------------------------------

After the conversation at breakfast Sharaun made his way to the classroom he had been told to report to. The pointless opulence of the Collage saddening him as it seemed it's wont to do. Being the first to arrive he was treated to the bigger picture of the situation. The classroom looked more like a small training arena for gladiatorial combat, and not all that dissimilar to the indoor arena where Master Shawn of the seminary taught devotee's of His Light marital skills. Sharaun knew how to use every piece of equipment and was itching to do so. For a little sparring was the thing to get his thoughts in order.

Of course the less welcome sight of the bald man in his plate armor was perhaps a tad spirit dampening. He acted like a Master of Arms but Sharaun was willing to bet Master Shawn could have taught this mage imitator a lesson or two. And being the first to arrive Sharaun was treated to the full force of the instant disapproval. It made him want to take his staff and teach the bald pompous ass a thing or two. Master Shawn for all his legendary martial skill had never belittled even the most green of recruits. Were as this bald prick seemed ready to hate his class on mere principal.

This is going to be a long class I can just feel it. Sharaun thought with a heavy sigh before squaring his shoulders and straightening his spine. If the bald teacher wanted to be an ass then so be it, Sharaun would not stoop to his level.

The other students trickled in by the twos and threes, the blond zealot thankfully not among them. "Well thank Him for small mercies." He spoke under his breath before the teacher exploded into action, every bit as pompous as he looked. He was also sparing with his words which suited Sharaun just fine as he filed away the man's name Luther Huss for future reference.

The lesson for the day it seemed was to run, which really wasn't a lesson as every single being in existence was capable of running. Sharaun had been told the Collage would help control the curse in his veins, and this seemed at counter purposes to that. A teacher that made the silver eyed young man want to lash out physically and absurd lessons. The only thing be learned here seemed to be the limits of their patience and obedience. Useful qualities but hardly related to using and controlling magic. Still every teacher had their ways and so as the order rang out Sharaun got out of his desk and began to run with the easy stride of the long legged. Running was easy for him as he had always been among the most physically fit of the seminary. His loping stride saw him at the ahead of the pack who confusingly followed their teacher's orders.


Some, obviously in poor shape, feel to the way side after but a few minutes of running. Their sides heaving as their bodies fought for air. Others like him ran on with the same long legged stride, their only confusion stemming from the purpose behind it. That and when exactly when they were suppose to stop, for all their vaunted youthful agility they could not run forever after all.

Sharaun like the others attacked the problem from all angles. And after coming to the conclusion that seemed most likely he let it be. Either this was a fitness test, a test of their resolve, or the old fart simply was a lazy ass teacher and couldn't be bothered to come up with a proper lesson. Magic seemed like a great enough advantage on the battlefield so why bother with physical fitness. The tales were well known, of seemingly frail mages conquering armies with naught but a few spells. Testing their resolve was likely but running seemed a poor way to test if a person had a strong character. The third option was likely as well, but the Collage of Magic had a reputation as producing powerful mages. Surely they had earned somehow Sharaun thought.

Still as they ran it seemed to make as little sense to his fellow students of the Lore of Light as it did to Sharaun. This was a poor start to their lives as masters of the winds of magic. Sharaun could not help but think perhaps his path would begin with teaching his teacher the ways of His Light. For the silver eyed mage could not condone this contempt, a sign of corruption, in the man responsible for his future.

-Lore of Light- 2 hours later

Luther watched the remaining 7 runners. Weak, that was the only thought that crossed his mind. They were at their limits, and the reason was because they lacked purpose. He told them to simply run because it would strain them both physically and mentally.. For them to be this tired.. weak. He watched as one chubby boy was crawling on the floor, so tired was he, but unlike the others he didnt give up. Truly a maggot.

"Stop!" He yelled, His glare traveled to those that had walked or out right stopped "You all get out of my classroom and never return. The sight of you makes me sick." Some of the students merely left, but one boy stood up from his panting "This is Stupid! It serves no purpose! We are here to learn to control our curse, not run!" He was a larger boy probably used to bullying others or perhaps merely large from training with whatever godforsaken church he came from.

Luther turned his head his glare intensifying "I did not know Maggots could speak" He replied with a sneer of contempt. The boy turned red with anger and grabbed a nearby sword from the wall and charged the bald teacher. "So the maggot wants to become a fly?" Luther snidely remarked, but on the end he whispered something before he was encompassed by yellow light. It swirled around him his veins in his arms expanding as his hands clamped over the swung sword and with a clench of his fist the steel shattered. The boy only had time to widen his eyes before Luther picked him up by the front of his shirt with one hand. Luther leaned in his glare baring into the boy "Lets see Maggot. IF you have become a fly" With that he took a step towards the door and threw the poor boy at the large doors, the heavy boys body hit the door and kept going.

Luther stood as the yellow light diminished. "Leave before I break you maggots." The people who could not keep up started for the door including the chubby boy that was crawling, but Luther pointed at him "No.. You, You can stay." The chubby boy nodded only once before sitting down gasping for air. Luther paced around the room glaring each of the remaining 8 boys in the eyes. "Maggots each and everyone of you. But out of all you are the best maggots. Congratulations, you passed the initiation." Although he was congratulating them his sneer and his glare never left.

"Separate into pairs, get some wooden weapons, whatever suits your style. Let me see what you maggots can do" Luther said before once more returning to the center of the room and leaning on his hammer.

Purple eyes widened, the digital clock must have been wrong, but to Otto's demise, she was running late. "Shit, fuck!" She jumped out of bed, running to the shower. She had to make it quick but the steaming water pelting on her skin just felt to good. She decided to shave, just to enjoy extra time under the massaging pressure. Screw being early. 

She finished up and wrapped her hair up in a towel. She went to the mirror and looked herself over. She had good complexion, her skin looking flawless and undamaged. She was gorgeous, but she didn't see it. She saw a monster. A creature that needed makeup. She picked up her pencil and drew two thick lines under her eyes. Better. She snatched the casing of blush and dabbed a bit to either cheekbone. She flecked on a stroke of mascara and was proud to go out in public now. 

She hadn't cared to put a towel on, she preferred being naked and she wasn't the modest type. She returned to the bedside with her clothing she had taken off in the shower and dropped them on the floor, her purple orbs averting from the mess to the door. She jumped, only in surprise of his arrival. It didn't even hit her that she was naked until after he began apologizing repetidly. "Whoops." She giggled, shrugging her shoulders. "Oh, well." She didn't care much, she was used to being open about her body. 

You sound like a whore when you say things like that. It makes it seem like you want him to want you. Maleficent's sneer could be heard in the tone she was taking. But Otter just ignored her like most of the times. She had never told anyone about her schizophrenia, but sometimes she secretly itched to discuss the crazy things and thoughts he had to go through. It was a madhouse in her head. 

She went to her bag, retreiving a Sleeping In Sirens t-shirt that was decorated in psychadelic monsters ad designs. She slipped on the usual skinny jeans and accompanyed the outfit with the classic black high top converse. "I miss Pan." She said, sighing sadly.

She took off the towel, rubbing it over her head to dry it moreso. She flipped on her high powered hair dryer and she was done in about ten minutes. She brushed it out, making it look shiny and well taken care of. She styled her bangs over, almost covering her right eye then she added a black jacket to her clothing. She threw the hood up and stuck her thumbs through the holes. One made accidentally, the other on purpose so it would be equal. She picked up the key off of the floor and placed it into her font pocket. 
"Off to class." Or off to failure! Damian screamed. 

. . . 

Otter made it just in time, getting lost a bit, but accidentally finding her way after a couple of turn arounds. She stalked off to the forest, eager to see who was in her class. "Whoaaa." She chuckled, seeing the same boy who had just walked in on her. "What. A. Coincidence. Did you like the show?" She asked, trying to sustain her giggling behind her fingertips. The smile still played on her lips as she turned, listening to the teacher. I like her. Otto thought to herself. She was anxious to start the challenge. She was good at this kind of stuff, especially with the help of wild critters. She expected this would he an easy day. She did not fear death, but she would know when her time would come. Where to go?

Snap. Otter's purple eyes flashed to the direction of the noise, seeing a bush rustling momentarily, then a healthy looking fox emerged from the plant, seeming to look up to her. "No way....You made it! I was just thinking about you, oh this is great, I hope they will let you stay with me!" She picked up the furry animal and hugged him, he seemed to enjoy it, as if used to this kind of love and affection. She pat his head after setting him down. "So I need to find some non-poisonous plant life. Ya' wanna help me?"  

Amber woke up to the sun shining in her room. Normally, her father’s bass filled voice would call out to her, but not this time. She had to do it on her own. Amber rubbed her hands against her eyes, hoping that would give her a little ‘pick me up’. When it did not, she slowly slipped out of bed. Amber knew herself all too well. If she stayed in bed, she would end up going back to sleep. The young girl slipped out of bed and onto the cold hard floor. It was not a welcoming feeling, but it did give her the little jolt she needed to wake up. With a violent shiver, Amber had officially woken up. The young girl walked over to the little dresser that the school provided and opened the top draw. She stared lazily inside, wondering what would be appropriate for the first day of classes.

“Work clothes” she muttered to herself, before pulling out a pair of baggy brown pants. She slipped them on, followed by a small shirt. Amber grabbed her goggles and a pair of heavy boots. This was what she normally wore to work.

“This shouldn’t be much of a problem right?” she questioned herself. With a little smile, Amber grabbed her robe and draped it over her shoulders. She wasn’t the type to wear robes or anything of that nature, but she didn’t want to be rude either. With all the preparations down, Amber escaped her room. She had managed to learn a few directions in the school since she had gotten there. ‘It’s as if the hallways were a maze trying to keep the students from finding their way.’ Amber laughed at the thought.

~A few minutes later~

Did she mention that the hallways were a maze? Amber walked aimlessly down them. Maybe if she were lucky, the classroom would find her. Like that would ever happen. Other students headed into their classes without a problem, so why did she have to be the only one lost? Thankfully, it did not seem to last long. Amber stopped at a classroom and peeked in. It didn’t seem like a classroom at all. Walking into the room, Amber felt a sense of nostalgia. The classroom reminded her of her dad’s shop. A small smile crept up on her face, but soon it turned into a huge grin. There were large metal pieces, tools, and other goodies located in the room. At that moment, she knew this was her classroom. When she glanced over, Amber hadn’t notice the elderly man standing there. Her reminiscing moment had ended early. She quickly ran over to an iron piece and sat down. Her face was flushed a crimson red.

The elderly man introduced himself. He seemed like a sweet little old man. Not the type that would be teaching a class here. Amber smiled when his gazed locked onto hers. Even though he is her teacher, she still saw him as a little old man. “Forge me a sword” he said to the class. Amber’s eyes widened, but then she relaxed. There were many questions she had for him regarding his request.

“Um…sir” Amber began started to speak up, but decided against it. When she worked, people would tell her what kind of sword they wanted. Some would even give her intense details. ‘Mister Torn’s instructions are so vague’ she thought. ‘Plus, he has to understand that it takes a few days to forge a ‘decently’ made sword. This must be a test of skill.’ Amber looked at the other students, waiting to see their reactions. Some of the students jumped right up to retrieve the tools needed, others were just as confused as she was. Still, it was not going to stop from trying her best. Amber stood up and walked over to the tools on the wall. She grabbed a clamp and carefully held it in her hand; examining the tool. Her eyes wandered over to the students who had started working. All seven students were hard at work. That's when she realized...she was the only one left.

Amber glanced over all the materials, before picking out what she felt would work best. She then walked over to a little work station and placed all the items on the table. Amber stared at the items before taking in a deep breathe. This would be her first attempt at making a ‘whole’ sword by herself. Normally her dad would do most of the work, and she would work on the finishing touches. He did teach her the whole process, but without training, it would still be difficult to forge a sword. This did not faze her. Amber sat down and started working on an outline. She would make her professor one of the best swords she had ever created.

As the running went on a light sheen of sweat broke out on Sharaun's skin and he felt his breath a bit more. But he had always been in good shape so it was not much to complain about yet. The same could not be said of the other's students, as time dragged on more and more fell to the way side. It seemed their teacher was determined to run them into the ground. Well then so be it, no reckless words would cross his lips. If this was a test he'd succeed if it killed him, for there was no where else to go. The only other path lay in the fate of a renegade, one a untutored mage would have little hope in.

The minutes dragged into a hour, then another hour went by. The was a stitch beginning to form in his side and Sharaun was quite aware of where his tunic was chafing him. The sheen of sweat was beginning to become all out pouring, but he felt plenty of juice left in his tank. Still he wondered if the teacher did indeed intend to run them into the ground. As only eight students were even still moving, with the last of their number barely crawling. The silver eyed young man admired the boy's determination, it indicated a strength of will that was uncommon.

Just as soon as he witnessed the boy's determination Sharaun was aware of the order to stop coming with open disgust from their teacher. The young man felt equal disgust for the bald man as he witnessed the brutal example he made of the crawler, true he was acting in self-defense of a sort. But it was wilful aggravation on his part, this Luther Huss was egging them on. It was outright sadistic glee on his face as he sent the reckless boy flying. " The corruption of magic is great indeed." Sharaun muttered to himself under his breath as the bitter words of congratulations were thrown to them with all the warmth a man gives a beaten dog.

At least the reckless student was allowed to stay, perhaps only to have an even number. For they were ordered to split
pairs and spar so that their martial skills could be seen and judged. Which suited Sharaun just fine as he held no love for magic and had no desire to study it. But after their run the other students seemed ill disposed to fight each other, tired as they were. Sharaun for his part was feeling the effects of the run but not exhaustion in it's severe stages. Rather he was curious why their magical studies seemed to be composed of physical tests. The Church did not accept mages into Paladin training so it seemed odd to bother with such martial skills. Still if the pompous ass was hoping for a surrender from them he was sorely mistaken.

Thankfully Sharaun did not get the reckless student but rather a pale skinned boy. Obviously of northern descent as evident by his black hair and sky blue eyes. It was confirmed by the barbarian accent he spoke with as he introduced himself.

"Hi, I'm Brock." The boy was at least two heads taller then the silver eyed mage and several pounds heavier, all of it muscle easily seen due to the sleeveless shirt he wore. For his choice the barbarian had chosen a large wooden club, a dark black in colour it looked like a hefty weapon.

" Sharaun at your service." The young man spoke in reply with a slight bow. Sharaun had decided to stick with the white ironwood staff he had brought with him. It was a shorter weapon then the two handed club wielded by Brock but the chestnut haired would be paladin held no illusions of besting either the physical strength or reach of the barbarian.

Bowing to each other they started circling each other, mindful of the other students. Brock lashing out with the two handed club, his moves slowed by the exhaustion of the run. Sharaun nimbly danced around the bone crunching blows, feeling light and free as he always did in the sparring ground. For he was no priest, he had always desired the role of a paladin. And so after his clerical studies and chores would beg extra training of Master Shawn.

The lighter ironwood staff landed several unchallenged blows to the rib cage of Brock, resulting in little more then minor grunts of pain. No doubt all that muscle was good padding and Sharaun was beginning to realize he would have to hit more then ribs. Narrowly dodging a overhead swing of the club the would be paladin danced sideways sorely tempted to try and trip up Brock. Those legs of his were oak trees though so he doubted a kick would be enough.

Leaping backwards he flailed the staff in a circle before him, sending Brock's club sideways and away from his body. The shock of the barely parried blow nearly ripped the ironwood staff out of Sharaun's hands. There had been no one at the seminary this strong and it was proving quite the fight.

Seeing his opening he lashed out as Brock pulled his weapon back, catching the big boy's throat with a simple thrust of the end of the staff. As the barbarian mage coughed trying to catch his breath Sharaun managed to flank him. Sending his staff out in a low sweeping strike, hitting the back of Brock's knees. with his feet cut from beneath him the big boy hit the ground. Seizing on the chance Sharaun planted a foot on his chest, while at the same time placing his staff against the throat of his fallen sparring partner. The end of the white ironwood staff lay firmly against the Adam's apple of Brock's throat.

" I give already, damn your fast. They teach that in your Church?" Brock asked as Sharaun helped him up. It was a simple enough question but Sharaun did not know how to answer. Brock being a barbarian held his own gods and was clearly not a convert of His Light. For he wore no cross on a beaded steel chain.

"Only to those seeking the path of a Paladin." Sharaun answered after a few moments with a slight smile that spoke volumes.

"Remind me to be terrified of you if you ever have a real weapon in your hands." Brock replied with a laugh and a wince as his battered ribs kicked in now that the rush of the fight was longer in his veins.

Sharaun only smiled once more. For he considered the white ironwood staff a real weapon. He had bought the thing with every intention of using it as a weapon. For a staff was every bit as lethal as a sword in the right hands, while at the same time it was capable of subduing without killing. Which is why he had settled on a staff as his everyday carry weapon, that and it was far cheaper then a sword. He may be the son of a merchant prince but Sharaun didn't have a single gold coin to his name. For he had sworn away his wealth to serve His Will.

Sharaun then wondered what was next, did their sparring go on now that Brock was defeated or was more running in order. Brock for his part looked tired after the run and the subsequent duel. Even the silver eyed student had to agree it was beginning to become tiring, this unorthodox lesson of magic, or rather test. For Sharaun could swear he knew less about magic now then when he entered. Not that he had known much to begin with, but even his hatred of the subject could not contain his growing curiosity. Were they not here to learn control over their curse, or was military training the name of the game. If so this Luther was doing a poor job of turning them into soldiers, an officer had to inspire as much respect as fear. So far it was likely they all hated the man equally for likely similar reasons and none of them seemed to respect him.

But the day is still young. Sharaun reminded himself with a sigh as he wiped the sweat on his face with the back of his sleeve. He would need to wash his clothes tonight and take a bath if he did not wish to stink to high heaven tomorrow.

Waking uncomfortably to the sound of the dawn chorus, Lewis immediately remembered why food and beds were such big deals. His stomach growled with hunger and his sore joints protested as he clambered out of the tree. Pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing the sleep from his eyes was a good start after that.
But now what?

Oh; that's right. His bag. His clothes and his- well, you just don't lose your bag. Chewing on his bottom lip; he drifted back to the college. Finding his way back to the hall, he found breakfast already underway - but only a handful of students were there so early. A few religious types crowding around a single table and just a couple of others here and there - dotted about. Not all that surprising though, really. Not everyone worked on a farm back at home, and it follows the monks would have people with the Gift just like any other denomination. And everyone knew they got up early to hit demons with sticks.

Grinning distractedly at this likely falsified snippet of information, he passed along the tables; peering under them and receiving not just a few raised eyebrows for his trouble. One or two individuals looked like they were about to say something, but he pre-empted them and said, simply: "My bag. Left it here last night. Just looking." with what he thought to be a wryly self-deprecating smirk - but probably came across as the frantic grin of a pale, lanky teen almost in hysterics. Eventually, he spotted his possessions resting under a seat. An occupied seat.

Approaching the fellow student nervously, he went to tap them on the shoulder, but they looked straight at him while he was still feet away.
"Yes? Did you want something?" they asked. Toying with him!
"Uh. Yeah... you're sat above my bag. Left it there yesterday. Mind if I..."
"Not at all. You have a leaf in your hair, you know."
"... right. Thanks." he replied, dislodging the leaf and gathering up his bag. Slinging it over his shoulder for safekeeping, he took a nearby seat and helped himself to some bread and cheese, being startled at how soft and floury the bread was. Spending a few moments in idle conversation before the other student got up to go, he wondered whether he had time to change and find some water somewhere to get himself looking presentable again. He decided he did, and ended up only slightly late to the clearing of the Lore of Life, hair slightly damp and rough, patched brown clothing hanging baggily from his thin frame.

The clearing was indeed beautiful. Lewis stood admiring it for a while, forgetting his lateness for a moment - but what with the teacher still and silent and the rest of the students of life wondering why there didn't seem to be any forthcoming reprimand. Once master Orion had introduced himself, sat his students down on the pleasantly dewy ground and provoked an embarrassed silence - at least from Lewis' quarter - he opened the floor to suggestions from his class. The faintly blushing Lewis decided to wait a while before asking what exactly the Lore of Life was about, just in case anyone had any more developed queries to ask about.

-Lore of Light-

Luther watched each fight with the same intense glare. Weakness. They lacked conviction, purpose, they were all weak. The four fights all ended rather quickly with the stronger fighter prevailing. "Weak, all of you." He snarled pacing back and forth. " The Gods favor only the strong." He contiuned "The weak die. Crushed like Maggots. You all are Maggots. I am going to change that." He stopped in front of the boy using the staff. He didn't know his name nor did he care to learn it "You have a problem maggot?" He snarled at the boy. He was being glared at by all of the boys, but he didnt much care. He would make them strong, or kill them. That was the way it should be. The Gods favored only the strong.

-Lore of Metal-

Elrond let out a tired sigh "I am going to take a nap young ones." He said as he slid himself off the pile of ingots he was sitting on. "Bring me the blades once finished." He sighed. He hoped the students caught on to why he never gave a time limit and they didn't rush it, but children tended to do that. Leaning heavily on his cane he limped out from the forge like classroom to go to his own quarters.

This man named Luther was trying the patience instilled into him by the Archbishop. Sharaun was sorely tempted to lash out at the man, for at the range the bald prick was it would land. If it would have any effect was quite another matter. But the silver eyed mage was no longer a child though if he was a man was yet to be seen.

"My name is Sharaun sir, not maggot. Please do endeavour to remember it." Sharaun said with all the politeness he could muster given the circumstances. Luther was nothing more then a mindless zealot, unaware it seemed of the true purpose in serving the will of the heavens. Sharaun would even say the brute was nothing more then a sword with a body attached." And yes I do have a problem sir, for starters none of us are weak. If we were weak none of us would be here to begin with.We could have run and lived as renegades. We likely wouldn't have got very far but the option nonetheless is a one we could take. Instead we chose to obey the law and report here and put up with your bullshit sir." Sharaun added to applause from the other students who had survived this far." Furthermore you said run, we ran. You told us to fight each other, and we did. We have obeyed to the letter your rather roundabout lesson. Even more so we have done so in a relative calm and polite manner which is more then you can boast sir."

Here the applause of the other students became almost defeaning as they saw a champion for their cause arise out of their own ranks. Sharaun had always been one to suffer little injustice, his heart was of gold. This teacher, Luther Huss, was a man ill fitted it seemed to the burden of teaching but it was their shared fate. To endure each other was the only course but some things needed airing out right here and now. " You sir are nothing more then a brute who should have never been allowed the position of teaching. But His will has seen it fit to make it so and there is no questioning His Wisdom. Be that as it may though we are at an impasse sir. You can not simply dismiss us as weak because we are in fact stronger then you'll ever be. For we unlike you walk in His Light and it has granted us both the strength to fight what we can and accept what we cannot. You are responsible for us just as we are beholden to your authority, but you should remember sir you are nothing more than a man. His Will has seen you put above us but His Will can just as easily bring you down."

Sharaun then stamped his staff hard on the floor to bring about silence from the cheering students of the Lore of Light. The echo of the ironwood staff was allowed to die out before the would be paladin went on with his tirade against the tyrannical Luther." This is a school sir not a military camp, these are young men just out of childhood. Most of them have never known the harshness of unsheltered life. You can not expect to have them grow wings just because you threw them off a cliff. We have to put up with the curse of magic in our veins but we should not have to deal with the corruption you have let fester in your soul sir. Your demons are your own, we will not stand idly by while you make us fight them for you. So go head and strike me if you disagree, My faith is my shield and His Will my sword I shall want for nothing." Sharaun spoke with heated passion, finishing off with the motto of the Paladin.

The other students looked shocked at this open challenge of Luther Huss, most of them took a few steps back but Brock with a swift smile stood slightly closer to Sharaun, his club held easily in one hand." Yeah that goes double for me you bald defiler of your mother's womb. Come and get some if you got the balls you thrice accursed sheep fucking prick." Brock added with his accent colouring his words. The silver eyed mage smiled, such language was not commonly heard amongst those in the seminary Sharaun had attended. But the mirth was short lived as they stared down Luther awaiting his reply.

The moments seemed to drag on for eternity, his mind a clear void. A million thoughts should have been racing through his head but Sharaun felt nothing. He was calm, serene in mind, no doubt the faith he held in his heart allowed him to face this with such ease. He did not know what would happen but Sharaun would not slave under the cruel yoke of a corrupted teacher. Magic was the only curse he would bear, and that only because there was no other option.

The sound of metal hitting metal filled the small classroom. Everyone was hard at work forging their swords. A few hours had passed, but it felt like an eternity. Students were moving around the room, working and gathering up items. Sweat dripped down the sides of many students faces. The forges caused the room’s temperature to increase drastically. However, that did not stop them from working. Many of the students stated that they would finish the sword that very day, just to save time.

Amber had pulled on her work gloves and picked out a nice chuck of iron. She too wanted to finish the sword that day, but knew that it would not happen. Her father always told her that it would take three days minimum to make a good sword. Forging a sword in one day was possible, but what person would want to use that sword in combat? It would break before that person even had a chance to use it. Lighting her forge, Amber grabbed her clamps and placed the iron in the flames. Amber watched her iron chuck slowly be engulfed by the fire. The flames seemed to dance around the metal. Watching the metal heat up had always fascinated her. The way the metal turned from white to orange and back again made her skin crawl. If she could hold the heated metal in her hand and admire the sight, she would. When the metal turned a beautiful bright orange, Amber removed it from the forge and placed it on an anvil.

The young girl reached over and grabbed a hammer from her work place. Amber gripped the hammer and let out a soft huff as she brought it down on the metal. A small indent had formed. She started to hammer away on the piece of metal. Amber focused on each and every side of the heated metal. The process that she is working on is called ‘shaping’. During this process, one must shape the metal to his or her liking. This involves hammering the heated metal, reheating it, and then hammering it again. This process has always been one of the most tedious processes, but it was one of the most important. Amber had started to get into a rhythm when the Mister Torn spoke up once more.

"I am going to take a nap young ones." All of the students stopped what they were doing to look at their instructor. They did not know how to react. Even when the elderly man said "Bring me the blades once finished”, they remained motionless. It wasn’t until he had left the classroom did the students get back to work. The hammering had started up again, but a loud voice emerged above it.

“When do you think the old man wants his sword?” a young male questioned. He walked over to a forge and placed his sword in the flames. Amber looked back that the person who presented the question. Her eyes not only wandered towards him, but also to his weapon as well. Judging from what Amber could see his sword would be finished in an hour or two. Sadly, no one was able to give him an answer. Many of the students looked down at what they had completed already, comparing what they had done to his work. Most of them had finished the shaping stage and were moving along.

“I don’t know, but I should be finished in a few more hours. He just said to forge a sword, it doesn’t have to be a really good one” another young male said. That statement was followed by nods and even positive comments. Amber could not believe her ears. She shook her head slowly before saying

“Let’s give Mister Torn a good impression guys. Don’t slack off.” After her comment, Amber placed her metal in the forge again, allowing it to reheat. She tried her best to ignore the snarky remarks that were thrown in her direction. She was not going to take any chances with this project.

“Slow and steady wins the race” she quietly stated to herself before she pulled out her metal, placed it on the anvil, and started hammering away.

Magnus whistled a tune, one that he had made himself. While he was no musical genius, it was well comparable to the ballads of the jesters of his Lord back at the castle. Every now and then, a songbird would join in a duet with him. He enjoyed the forest, it was so open and free, outside the confines of grey walls and stained-glass windows. He grew up with grey walls; any chance to escape them was a welcome escape to him.

Although he couldn't say that he wasn't frustrated. He was told that they would learn magic at this school; yet, in his first class, he was essentially told to go it alone and not to die. Unless...

He stopped for a moment, thinking. '...unless there's a lesson in all of this; or maybe it's a test.' He wondered, though, what the test could be...maybe it was to find out what the test was?

While he was thinking, he heard a rustle from some bushes. An orange blur shot out and tackled Harry, who still sat on Magnus' shoulder. The mouse gave a squeak as Magnus grabbed the orange thing, its jaws snapping at the mouse, missing by a mere few centimeters. While Harry dove into Magnus' pocket, Magnus held the squirming animal down. A voice called beyond the bushes.

"Pan!"

The black-and-blue haired girl walked through, looking at the boy before her. Magnus, seeing the fox as hers, released it, then flushed a bright shade of red. The fox trotted to the girl's feet.

Magnus kicked at the dirt, still a deep red. "Uh...about this morning..." He cleared his throat; what was he supposed to say? "I'm sorry, I really am. I really didn't mean to barge in like I did."

The tiny wild tomatos seethed in jealousy at the color of the boy's face.