A long day at work. A hard day. Sohn was up her ass. A promotion was brewing, so things were getting uncomfortable between the two. One of them would be a Team Manager soon, and Londyn was getting desperate. She was sick of merc wrangling. Thankless work that didn’t pay well enough. But hey, she got a house out of it. A nicer one than most of the merc wranglers, on account of her brother Lito.

“Lost.” Caliz tore his eyes from the scenery to look at his companion pointedly. He hadn’t been in Vol’Tyr since he was quite young, and had never been on this side of the continent. The trees and fresh growth had captured his many eyes for quite a while before Osa distracted him. “We’re not lost. We’re on a bleeding path.”

Some call me Kannoran. Others, Dral’gathach. Others still, Bassant. I don’t belong here.

Deep within the city of Nantambu, in the rain of the greatest school for the magically-inclined, ancient and impressive in its scope and structure, known everywhere as The Magaambya, a band of five brand new students met at a campfire in a pleasant glade. These five students, of wildly different backgrounds, homes, and personalities, were here to attend this magical school, all bound to be a Cohort, a group that would protect, help, and be there for each other.

The smoke pours from the tower. It’s all your fault. You know it is. You can’t help but bury your head in your hands and cry. Years of work just went down the toilet. Sure, the creature is alive and showing all signs that everything functions just like you wanted, but that does no good when it’s burst out of its cage and set fire to your lab. Your funding just literally went up in flames.