Imperial Spark IC

[Captain Sharp]

Imperial Spark IC
Chapter 1: Legion of Acias

General Lindor stood up and began parading between the tables, yelling once again. "Citizens of Acias, there is a chance to defend your country! An Orc horde is amassing on the west coast of the Bathis River! The 8th Shock Legion is being sent to defend an outpost in the northwest. Anyone who joins will be handsomely payed! If you do not join, your families will be in grave danger! If you refuse to join, I have been given the right to draft you! In that case, you will not be paid or promoted. Join now!"

As though to shame the general's pathetic attempts to recruit people for the legion, a young boy crashed through the double doors, panting, and cried, “Everyone, come look! Somebody is killing a bunch of teachers in the coliseum!"

Almost as one being, the entire tavern rose and stampeded out, towards the coliseum. Muttering something about incompetence, the general reluctantly followed.
----

The boy had not lied. The coliseum was not large, and it was found standing resolute on the hill by the first inhabitants of the area. Nobody knew who built it, when, or why. The entire coliseum appeared to be constructed of perfectly polished white marble. There were eight pillars around the arena, which would generate some sort of energy shield. The shield was one way and would keep anything going on inside of the arena from hitting the audience. However, anything the audience threw could easily pass through the shield and into the arena. The most interesting aspect of the arena was that before the Western War Academy was built, the floor of the arena was made out of an almost indestructible metal which puzzled every metal smith that ever came across it. It looked like a metal, but it would not melt or transmit electricity. It was extremely hard to damage.

However, constant plasma bolts hitting the metal did leave gashes on it and eventually, in the interests of preserving the arena, the headmaster of the Academy had several feet of sand poured onto the floor. The sand had to be replaced several times a day to keep it from completely turning into glass.

It was already night time and because of the darkness, there were torchlights spread out around the bleachers. They were like candles compared to the light emanating from the center of the arena.

Four teachers were exchanging blows with a man in black light plate armor. Eight dead teachers and one wounded were lying on the ground. The burnt body of an unidentified student also lay on the ground. The man in black armor had not been seen in Ancor before, and his identity was a complete mystery to all but one of the onlookers. Azeraye shook his head “Only Altres would be that stupid…”

Altres surrounded himself with a whirling ring of fire which threatened to burn anyone who approached. He could also lash out with the ring at will, occasionally sending fireballs zipping out.

Altres rolled to his side to avoid a lightning bolt from Jithis, one of his long time destructive magic instructors. The ring of fire temporarily lost cohesion and began diffusing outwards. As Altres regained his stance, the ring of fire reformed fast enough to discourage any attacks from behind. Altres concentrated his ring of fire into a giant fist and sent it at Jithis, sending him stumbling backwards. Kitlia, his instructor of archery, tried to take him out with an explosive arrow. Altres hit the arrow with his sword and sent it spinning off into the arena’s energy shield. He raised his palm and released a shock wave into her face. She flew backwards and hit the energy shield of the arena, which sparked and released a few dozen volts into her, rendering her unconscious.

Jithis, after some difficulty, managed to redirect the fist of fire back at Altres, who simply moved out of the way of the slowly moving tongue of fire and let it ram into a teacher behind him. The man screamed as he caught on fire.

Altres turned around in time to raise his sword and parry an axe from the fourth teacher, before beginning to slash at him furiously. Jithis joined the fight with his sword as well. With a well-timed counter attack, Altres rammed his shoulder into the chest of the axe armed teacher and sent him staggering. He then slashed downwards at Jithis. Jithis blocked, the force of the blow lowering his sword. Altres then slashed from left to right, knocking Jithis off balance. Expecting another melee attack, Jithis was unprepared for what came next. Looking back at Altres, he was horror stricken to see Altres raise his left hand, sparking with electricity, and discharge it into him at almost point blank. There was no change of survival. Almost headless, Jithis flew to the other side of the arena, hit the energy shield, and plummeted to the ground.

The last teacher began attacking Altres with great ferocity, but only after a few slashes, Altres sent a quick lightning bolt to the teacher. The teacher parried, staggering backwards. The teacher was still off balance and made the mistake of trying to slash at Altres instead of regaining a proper stance. Altres parried the sword to the side, landed a solid kick to the balls, and brought his sword down into the man's neck.

Altres smirked as the last of the teachers fell. He didn’t get pleasure from killing the teachers, but it was necessary. The charred student who lay on the ground had been his target. He began walking to the exit of the coliseum when a crisp and furious yell, coupled with a plasma bolt to the back stopped his escape. General Lindor had jumped into the arena after Altes. "You son of a bitch! You thing you can murder half a dozen people and get away with it? Get up and fight, you murderer!"

Altres pushed himself up, his head swimming with pain thanks to the hole in his back. He created another ring of fire, but it was considerably weaker than before. Altres raised his hand and tried to shoot a fireball, but Lindor somehow blew the ball apart, turning it into smoke. When the smoke cleared, Lindor was now slashing a flaming sword at Altres. Top right to lower left, upper left to lower right. Altres was backing up quickly, unable to stand in the wake of such raw power while wounded. With a spin and slash, the general sent the Altres's sword flying, then thrust his own at Altres's chest, but only hit air.

Altres was already behind him and sent a fireball into the general's back, but the general’s heavy armor saved him the trouble of screaming in pain and setting alight. Lindor swung the sword in a feint. Altres fell for it, jumping backwards. The next thing he knew, he was on the other side of the arena and he was bleeding from the ears and nose. His vision was blurry and he felt like his head would rip open. He stood up in a crooked stance, trying to summon enough energy to shoot... punch... move... Anything

He couldn't do it in time to avoid an explosion of lightning from the general's palm, sending him flying into the shield once more, and knocking him out cold. He would feel that when he woke up.

The crowd went wild, some screaming disapproval at the unfair battle, others ushering the general on. Azeraye knew Altres would be executed if Lindor got his hands on him. He had to act fast. He took one of his small grenades and jumped into the arena, throwing right in front of Lindor’s helmet. The explosion blinded and deafened the general temporarily. He swung at air with his sword, but Azeraye had no interest in approaching him. Some of Altres’s other friends had realized what was going on. Hayo was the first into the arena. He raised his arms and a thick cloud of smoke emanated forth, masking the arena and some of the nearby streets. Legionnaires were rushing into the arena, but disoriented and nothing more than soldiers, they were no match for the students who were trying to escape. When the smoke cleared, there was no more trace of Altres, Azeraye, Hayo, or any of the others. Three legionnaires lay dead and nine more were wounded. Lindor was helped up and led away by some of the legionnaires.

The coliseum was closed down for investigation and its occupants were dismissed. Most of them stumbled back to their taverns or inns.
----

Azeraye now stood inside of a healer’s shop. Inside, the doctor was fuming. The little room contained a bed in the middle with an oil lantern above it. Inside the room stood a doctor with a crowbar between the student's back plates, two nurses, and an assortment of others who just wanted to see the legend stretched out on the table.

"How am I supposed to take off this armor? I can't heal him properly with it on!" He gave a last push on his crowbar and gave up. "Why the hell would he rune-seal his armor?"

The nurse looked around the room with a tired glance. Her eyes had little purple half moons under them. She had not slept for two days and it was getting the best of her. "Well... maybe he doesn't want anyone to know his identity? There is a reason he’s a black knight..."

This continued for a few minutes, at which point the doctor decided to call for a runemage. Altres’s friends in the room were trying to explain that this was not an advisable course of action. Azeraye stood over the doctor.

"I assure you... None of this necessary. We can have Elia over here take him in until he heals," Azeraye said, gesturing at Elia, a blond haired girl who was Altres’s fiancé. He discretely handed the doctor a bag of gold and whispered in his ear. "Besides, a little money is worth one's identity, is it not?"

The doctor weighed the bag in his hand. It was at least 200 coins’ worth. "I suppose you are right... I can care less about who he is or if he lives or not. I'm not even being paid to save him. I believe I have a case with a nobleman's wife. She is a paying costumer, unlike him, so I will go by priorities." He swiftly bowed to everyone and left the room. His nurses followed him out.

Assured that Altres was no longer in danger of being unmasked or killed, most of his friends vacated the room. Azeraye and Elia were the only two left. Azeraye looked over at Elia. “Elia, do you think you can heal him with his armor on?”

Elia shrugged. "Sure. Just give me a moment..." She looked over the wounds, shaking her head. “What the hell was he thinking?”

“I don’t know. It all strikes me as awfully stupid. He had a fight with Clarus De Marthes earlier today and I think he wanted to settle the score.”

“What an idiot,” Elia murmured almost on the brink of tears.

The door behind them opened and Azeraye’s ex, Aurora, came in and almost threw herself on him. “What the hell happened? I heard that someone saw you and the others in the coliseum and that someone was killing people in the arena. Are you alright?” She stammered with some cohesion. Azeraye was slight wounded by a gladius to the leg, but it just barely broke the skin.

“I’m alright,” he answered, wincing as he thought about it. “But I could use a few drinks…”

----
Azeraye left for the tavern, while Elia continued to heal Altres. He entered the Drowned Sorrows Tavern. Some of his friends were already there. Inside, it was a bar like any other. Drunken men snoozed on the tables, fights sprung up here and there, and wenches ran around dancing, looking for someone to seduce. The owner was behind the counter, pouring drinks. Azeraye and his companions sat down in front of the counter. "We'll have 5..." He looked at his 9 foot tall friend Mermie. The giant man crossed his arms and shook his head. "... 15 rums. Here." Azeraye placed some money on the table and the owner began pouring the rum into mugs.

Azeraye spent a few hours sitting and talking about the fight. "So like I said, he should have had Miss Hoty seduce the general, and then he could have..." A strange feeling overcame him. It was like instead of sitting and sweating in a 32 degree Celsius bar, he was on one of the snowy mountain tops. He started shivering, but noticed it wasn't actually cold. The chill somehow emanated from within him. He looked around the tavern. His companions were giving him the same wide eyed and freaked look he was giving them. A few other students in the room who were familiar with magic also looked around wide eyed, trying to figure out what just happened. As soon as it appeared, it was gone. Hayo excused himself and left the Tavern. Azeraye was on guard for a few seconds, but without the aura re-appearing, he went back to talking. A few more hours passed talking about the fight.

Altres came limping into the tavern, dressed in normal cloth clothes and a knife hanging off of his waste. It was impossible to say that he resembled the black knight in any way. Elia was supporting him. He looked around and then limped to the group.

"Hey guys, did you miss me?"

Azeraye looked at his friend.
"Yeah. Are you feeling better now?"

Altres couldn't suppress a grin...
"Well, I'm no longer dying... the ribs are broken here... here... maybe here... and here..." He pointed at all his ribs individually. "Maybe a leg or two... you know... the usual. Hey, where is Hayo?"

Mermie, who had a full battalion of empty mugs next to him thought for a moment. He was somehow untouched by the alcohol, despite his drinking of over a gallon of rum. "I'm not sure... he just got up and left. Can't be far or he would have told us though."


They all began scanning the area for Hayo. Then their scan stopped immediately on the general, who was pointing at a poster on the wall and was once again yelling loud enough to wobble mountains.

Altres got up, "hey everyone, let’s go register. They walked up to the counter to register.

When Azeraye was finished, he had his back to the front desk and scanned the Tavern for anything interesting. There were legionnaires, students, and various travelers alike. By intuition, he particularly noticed an odd young woman with short blond hair, with some sort of sinister feeling about her. He noticed a rogue like man with a bow. He spotted a runemage. His gaze traveled over an interesting student examining his sword, no doubt a quality swordsman. He continued on to notice an elf archer- an interesting entity in those regions. He smiled when he saw a Galican healer. Galicans were fun to talk to. He noticed a student probably from Chenta-Finna. He had noticed him before, but they had never spoken. He saw a legionnaire which somehow seemed to stand out from the other soldiers. His armor was worn and he had somewhat more refinement in his motions than the other legionnaires. He was instantly interested in a 9 foot tall man- even taller than Mermie. He was certainly not Asgaran, or at least not entirely... He'd heard tales of men such as that in Istvaar to the south.

His eyes stopped on his swordsmanship teacher, Rose. He headed over and sat down. "Hello, Rose. How have the last few days been?"

[blazinvire]

The tavern wasn't exactly one of Rose's favourite places, as she didn't believe in alcohol and there was a lingering disgust in the back of her mind at uncouthly behaviour due to her noble heritage. But it wasn't something she showed, preferring to be a role model of tolerance as she just sat their patiently, idly watching the recruiter when an all-too-familiar student approached.

"The last few days have been well," Rose said, a little over-formal in her tone denoting underlying frustration, "Today had promise until I went to the Colosseum and saw teachers dying in droves."
She snapped her gaze onto Azeraye with only slight suspicion and accusation in her eyes.
"I especially loved the part when I saw you jumping to the perpetrator's aid," Rose hinted dryly, her gaze unfaltering for a moment on Azeraye before flickering between his friends as though searching for signs or indicating she knew it must have been one of them. Not like it'd be hard to find the black knight with such a narrow array of suspects -the perpetrator was stronger than a teacher.
But for some reason Rosalinde wasn't acting on the information, and it definitely wasn't fear, it was more like she was just waiting and observing.

"... I know I should remain at the academy, but enough is enough," Rose said, jumping subjects all of a sudden as though letting the previous one stew for awhile, "I've trained enough students, I think I've earned some 'holidays'."

[WyxzTHEGamer]

Arnlaugr was standing in cold river water and watching at his reflection on the water. He touched scar on his chest. Scar was running from bottom of his stomach and almost reached his neck. This scar was the reason why for past to years he was living in this farm. He was wounded two years back in a fight with bandits not far from here. But with luck and money that his comrades left to farm owners Arnlaugr managed to survive. Arnlaugr never was afraid of death but this scar reminded him how close to it he was that day. But today Arn decided that its time for him to leave. He had an everything he needed here but with all his body Arnlaugr could feel that he needs new adventures. That quiet life in countryside is not for him and as 8th Legion is recruiting people to fight orcs now its perfect time for him to leave.

After short walk Arnlaugr reached farm. He went directly to small house at the edge of the farm where he lived for past two years. Near house was sitting old man and smoking pipe. It was owner of farm. He was at least two heads smaller and at least three time older then Arn but you could still see that his body was strong and sturdy. Only things that showed his real age was his wrinkled face and snow white hair. "So i heard that you will leave us Arn?" asked old man as Arnlaugr approached him. "Yes in deed. I am very grateful for your hospitality but its time for me to move...". Old man blew thick smoke ball out of his mouth "I see...well inside is your old chain mail shirt. Blacksmith fixed it. Consider it as our thanks for your work in farm" "There was no need for..." Old man interrupted Arn in middle of sentence by standing up "There is also some food that granny prepared for your journey...come to say Good Bye to her before you leave" Arnlaugr was standing and watching as old man slowly walked to the main house. Only now he understood that old man and his wife was only people in his short life that gave him place where he could feel himself as in home. But he already decided.

Arn putted on his chain mail shirt and gathered his belongings. As he left his small house old man and his wife already was standing on a porch of their house. Arnlaugr approached them "Oh boy be safe and please if you will be close visit us" said old lady with tears in her eyes as she putted her arms around Arn. " I will granny do not worry and i will definitely visit you...how i could leave without your stew" said Arn and tried to smile. "You liar...you never liked it" old lady smiled back to Arn as she wiped her eyes. "We will pray for Lady Luck that she would watch you and when you will be sick of chasing adventures you can always can come back here. We need good workers" said old man as he shakes Arn' hand. At the entrance to farm Arn stopped and waved for last time to old couple.

-------

Arn was standing at front entrance to the Drowned Sorrows Tavern. The town guard told him that here he can find 8th Legion recruiter. He entered tavern. It was only midday so there was only few people inside so without any problem he found recruiter and signed in. Arn had everything he needed with him so he decided to stay in tavern. He sat in corner and with cup of mead in his hand he was scanning people who were entering tavern until boy ran inside of tavern and started shouting something about a fight. Almost all people left but Arn just stayed in his place. He was to tired after his journey and really he did not care about some fight he saw enough of them to know how they look. After some time peoples started to pour back to tavern. Now Arn noticed few new interesting people in the crowd. Maybe they were all evening in tavern. Anyhow Arn did not care. Mead that he was drinking now was kicking in. Warm feeling that alcohol gave now was spreading through his body. Tension from muscles disappeared and Arn lighted up pipe, took his lute and started playing slow tune and murmuring song words "Oh my darling Oh my love Let me climb your mountains...".

[GreenGoat]

Interesting.

If she had to describe her journeys then with one word, that would be it.

Interesting.

Things she had only ever imagined from the pages of a book, things she had only ever heard of, and things she didn't even know existed. Like that exploding mushroom. And right now, a tall mug of ale. While it took a little courage to even go near the bartender, she did not know what to order, until the bartender helpfully gave her a few recommendations. The tavern too is a strange new experience, people eating, fighting, crying and what have you. It was like someone crammed life into a room.

So here sat Minerva Di Vanz in a relatively secluded table in the tavern, a tall mug of ale, and a bowl of stew. Along with her last bits of coin. It was a good thing none of those drunken men tried to grope her or even tried to approach her.

She had initially thought about going into that fighting thing the person in armor was even now shouting about, and had dismissed it as unneeded. After all, orcs or men, they are the same, lustful creatures who cares naught but for their own interests. Then she considered her deflated coin bag, and the possibility of having to sell herself to survive, and decided the devil you knew was always best, no matter how little the difference is.

Maybe. Minerva will think about it some more. After she finishes her meal. What was in this stew? Was this beef? What sort of meat is this?

[Deathmaker]

Of course in every tavern, it was always noisy. One thing that made it noisy were the drunk men. Well, let's say there were pints of beer flying everywhere. Fat, hairy men ordering 5 more pints with the scholars and mages just ordering little. Now, Voraire didn't come to this blasted tavern to get caught in a brawl, if it ever happened, he just came here to study or rather, to search for a possible ingredient for a new rune he was making. Voiraire took a sip from his pint while reading the book he was always carrying around. The runemage took extra care in always wearing his hood to avoid attention and of course, to let people know he was just a mage. Not a fighter of some sort.

"Really now. Why am I even here again? Oh yes... that blasted 'Rune of Haze'. God... A pint of ale, a bowl of mead and some other things I don't even know." Voraire sighed as a flying pint flew right past him, as more drunk men sang in glass shattering unison. "Some men just don't know decency. I swear if I get hit with something, I'll flip the table." Voiraire cursed.

For a recent event, there were some duels in the coliseum and of course the poor general didn't have time to announce his recruitment since a guy lured all the drunks to watch the duel. For a soldier, he's quite incompetent. Soldiers were the bane of Voraire's existence. He didn't like them, not one of them. Everytime he meets a soldier, he has this strange urge to massacre him. This originated because of his tragic past.

With a sigh, Voraire took off his Runeglove as he began fixing it. He also laid out his various runes, arranged neatly in a box. Categorized and organized. Ignoring the shouts of drunk men and annoying drunk women, Voraire began fixing and maintaining his runes. All while reading the book.

Voraire was now smiling as he wore his Runeglove and inserted a Rune of Pyros. The glow illuminated a red glow. Followed by the Rune of Cryos. The glove now had swirling mixtures of red and blue. With a Rune of Galeos, the glove had a white, blue and red swirl of colors. Voirare watched in amusement as he took off and inserted another rune. Truly, this was one of the Runemages certain joys.

[1DVSguy]

Tharek Dy'nar sat polishing his hand and a half sword carefully with his cloth, ignoring the pint of ale and the calls of drunken men around him. Things were so different here from his family's farm back home... so loud and boisterous instead of the quite sounds of farm life. He laughed as a bear of a man one table over poured ale down another man's shirt. With loud curses the man turned around to tackle the man with the now empty mug of ale.
This was nothing like what his father told him how army life would be like. Instead of well disciplined soldiers, he encountered drunkards and brawlers. The thought of joining the brawl briefly crossed his mind before he decided against it, thinking of his father's teachings...

Remember Tharek, being an soldier means you carry yourself with dignity at all times. A soldier doesn't pick fights, a soldier doesn't prey on the weak, a soldier lives to protect and serve.
His father's face appeared in his head, brown eyes and face stern as if to emphasize the point.

The young lad of ten and nine sighed, his father must have not had the same teachers he had here. The teachers were for the most part incompetent and lazy, just like most of the students themselves...

Tharek frowned as he remembered the scene from the coliseum, it was his first look at death and he didn't like it one bit. If a mere student could take down so many teachers with ease, did they really stand a chance against the orcs?

He heard a man muttering to himself behind him. Curious, Tharek turned around in his seat to get a better look at him. The man was probably only a little older then himself, dressed in a robe with mysterious etchings on the side of it. He seemed angry for some reason but smiled as he inserted different bits of stone into a glove on the table.

Magic...

Tharek thought as he stared fascinated as the glove turned into the different colors of the rainbow each time he inserted a new stone. "What sort of device is that?" Tharek said to himself, not realizing he had voiced his own thoughts out loud.

[Deathmaker]

Voraire's train of thought collapsed as a person spoke to him. Now, mages were less talked to in the kingdom. Perhaps they were thought of outcasts. But this guy right here, didn't he know that Voraire was mage? Anyway.

Voraire looked up from his glove as he saw the grinning guy. The hood still hiding most of his facial features, Voraire wore the glove as it locked on his right hand. The kid might be younger than him though, seeing the features. Seriously, this guy was the kid of a farmer from the town yonder. Voraire was always wandering about, that's why he knew most of the people in the place.

"This device here is known to us Runemages as the Runeglove. As the name dictates, we place here the runes or stones and we gain power equal to the rune used." Voraire replied as he touched the table with the glove. Voraire muttered something under his breath as the glove came in contact with the table, the wood caught fire as Voraire smiled. In a swift movement, he touched the flames with the glove again, as a small jet from the glass doused the flames. With another movement, a gust of wind swept the remainder of the smoke.

Voraire coughed as he removed the runes from the glove and placed the stones inside the bag. "By the looks of it. I can tell that you're not a mage. Have any dreams of becoming a soldier?"

[Lord Monbodo]

Well now what?

Thomas had come to the Drowned Sorrows expecting a quiet evening. He could catch up with some friends and perhaps ply one of his contacts for some black market books. He hadn’t expected to see eight teachers cut down by some black knight. A black knight that was aided by Azeraye and his friends.

He could see the group in question lurking around the bar. Sure enough, Altres, who had been suspiciously absent at the arena, was limping. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Naturally he wouldn’t do anything about it. Even had he cared to become caught up in a feud, he lacked the power and connections to do accomplish anything. Altres and Azeraye were ringleaders of the strongest students in the academy. Tonight’s performance had dispelled any doubts about that.

He was suddenly reminded of the cold presence that had filled the room earlier, and began to nervously tap the hilt of his sword Alfsigr. Under normal circumstances he would only carry a dagger but the Lower City was a dangerous place and today had reminded him that it was better to be heavily armed than dead. The sensation had passed before he could make heads or tails of it, but he guessed it was a powerful aura. Sadly, the teacher he would have asked about it was dead.

Brushing aside the memory, he noticed his friend Juliet was sitting at a nearby table. With a grin he pulled up a chair and joined her. “Hey,” he said, “What did you think of the fight earlier? And more importantly, what should we do now? With half the instructors dead, I imagine that the academy will be facing hard times.”

[Rarity]

Juliet ripped off a tiny piece of her loaf of bread with her gloved hands and placed it into her mouth before taking a small chunk of cheese and eating it as well. Having been raised by a father who preached that poverty was the only way to truly live and enjoy life she had never developed a refined palate. She looked across the bar, lots of the usual patrons were there - all focused on their own things. She wondered if any of them knew about what happened at the coliseum.

She wasn't there but often visited the healer's tent to help out, what she saw was disturbing even for someone who tended to wounds on a daily basis. She tried her best to help out but some of them were beyond helping, their lives would never be the same and a few would not even make it through the night. The blonde girl closed her eyes and gave them a few seconds of silence before opening them again and continuing to slowly pick away at her food.

She had a book next to her plate, it was a collection of Acian remedies. Most of it was simply old wives tales but there were a few recipes that she would have to jot down later. She looked through the bar for Thomas, wondering where he was. They usually met here to talk about their days among other things. He was pleasant company.

The healer had her staff, Caduceus, leaning against the wall next to her. It was shining a faint red color and she wondered who was having a bad day. The solid glass staff gave off a hazy dark green light whenever it was around illness, shone a blood red when around intense negative emotions, and shone a spectacular bright golden light whenever Juliet channeled her healing magic through the staff. She glanced across the bar wondering who might be in a bad mood before deciding not to figure it out as staring at someone when they were mad just might set them off.

The blonde took a sip of her ginger ale and turned back to her book. Just as she began reading she heard the noise of a chair being pulled out and someone sitting down. Looking up to see that it was Thomas she gave the male a bright smile.

"Well I didn't get to see it, but I saw the aftermath and it was... unsettling to say the least." Her lips formed a thin line before she spoke up again "I think that it might be closed down for a while, at least until they find new instructors. Although I think there's more of us that are ready for war than there are newbies at this point. They might just prematurely ship us all of."

[GreenGoat]

Minerva stood up, wiping off a trace of ale from her lips. She had come to a decision. A hard but necessary decision.

Leaving the table with the empty mug and bowl, she strode straight up to the recruiting table, holding her fears in check when she saw the recruiter was a man. Minerva glanced sideways at the man even now shouting about how it was their duty to defend their homeland. He seemed to give her a look of approval, though it might have been her imagination. At least they don't seem the least bit interested in her, which helped ease her fears a little. If they did, she would probably have to find another way to get money. She didn't to kill people on the highways again though. Sooner or later they would put up a wanted poster for her if she relied on that for money too much.

After a series of questions, and a few forms to be filled out, she had managed to enter the...legion thing. Here's to hoping she can stay away from most of the men for as long as the contract or whatever it is you call it, lasts.

She froze suddenly, her eyes wide open in shock. Someone's hand was on her...

She turned quickly, smashing her gloved hand right into the drunkard's head, landing with a solid *thunk*. His friends, disagreeing with her treatment, flipped their table, enraging a nearby tavern patron, who tackled one of them to the ground. That seemed to set off a chain reaction, and soon most of the tavern is fighting each other. There were still some of the drunkard's friends and the drunkard himself however, and they advanced on Minerva with unmistakeable anger and desire.

"...shadow hide me..."

She cast a Dim spell, shadow expanding from her hand, engulfing the whole tavern in darkness. Materializing her sword from the dark, she gave a shallow cut to the first man standing in front of her, just deep enough to cut open his ribcage but not enough to kill him. As he screamed, his vital organs exposed, Minerva backed away, trying to keep enough room for her to swing her zweihander properly.