Xan began his stride across the school's pathways, as he found himself approaching the main gates. Next to the gates were two immense soldiers, which he realized were three times his size, easily.
"Name?" One of the men asked, their voice booming.
"Deven, Xan."
For a few moments, the soldier read his list, surveying it carefully. Finally, his head popped upward, and an unexpected smile spread wide across his once stern expression.
"You may pass."

It had taken Xan a longer amount of time to reach the entrance doors then he'd expected, even after he had passed the gates. They were open, and students fluttered inside from different angles. Xan passed through the group, and quickley made his way to the dorm list.
"D..D..D..Deven..Deven..here we go." He scanned the paper one more time, making sure he hadn't left anything out. When he was sure he had it, he proceeded to run up to his room to releave himself of his belongings. This was taken care of quickley, after Xan was dissapointed to find no roommate, as of yet.
With spare time to waste, Xan took out a pair of daggers. They appeared brand new, with a new coat of wax over the blades. He smiled at his reflection in the metal, gazing into them with a warm feeling in his heart, yet dissapointment as well. The daggers had been gifted to him by his father, one week before his father left for war and he left for the Academy. Xan hoped he could return the weapons to his father when he returned, but sadly, returning from the war was not common. Whether dead or cemented into the military, it was a common occurence for soldiers to never be seen again, by their families.
A gong rang through his hears, frantic mutters emitted from the hallways.
"Time for class." He whispered to himself lackidasically, as he made his way to War Tactics class, with Mistress Dema.

Voran was suffering a dilema. He had anticipated such strife when he first began the trek to the Acadamy, and he expected many more and additionally difficult examples, but his current situation was at least an academic study in dilemas.

Should I bring my sword to class, or not?

It was an interesting predicament, and a good warm-up for more dangerous situations that might well be on their way in this environment. Suppose he brought his sword, an imposing, gargantuan thing, and this was adverse from normal procedures. He might be seen as beligerant, or just plain stupid, two options he would rather not explore so early in his career. On the other hand, what if he neglected to bring his sword with him, only to find that being unarmed in this place was an irreversable sign of weakness, labeling him a pacifist or coward, stunting his ability to expand into this network? Also a miserable outcome.

Then again, he was probably making far too much of the matter. Luckily, it didn't take him long to reason out such matters, though in retrospect the thought process seems convoluted. At this point in the internal argument, he was nearly to his dormitory, which he had been told was a single, while also having been warned that such arrangements were wont to change suddenly. So, if he brought his sword and was alone in doing so, could he turn that to his advantage? He could use the surprise of it to his advantage, making himself seem a powerful figure without detracting from any potential mental merit, which comes only after one knows a person. However, that imposing aura might very well dissuade some from making his amiable aquantance, which would result in ostracisation, again something to be avoided. Reaching the room, Voran had entered the spartan, still-single bedded area and deposited the mighty trunk that he carried to house the belongings that he felt would be necessary in his new setting. In his other hand was the sword, held about the center by the sheath, and hovering expectantly, wondering whether it would be set on the bed or fastened to Voran's back.

So if he arrived unarmed in a class full of armed students? He could always play the diplomat, using his nonviolence as a tool to make his peers aware of his tactical mind at his own discression. And he was no slouch when it came to barehand fighting, even when it came to combat with an armed opponent. If the other was beligerant, cocky, and not as skilled as they beleived, he could overcome them with some effort, and put on a good show for his public. Of course, he hoped it would not come to that... at least with the information he had, it seemed too extreme an action. This was best. He was still an able warrior-student without the sword, and its absence might either not be thought twice about, or work to his advantage. He exited the room, securing the door, and began the stroll to his first War Tactics class with a weight noticably absent from his back.

Dema's face twitched with eagerness. For three years she engulfed herself in the information of the war. The largest portions of her days were spent inside the fold of an open book. She glued the greatest discoveries of many generals into the depths of her mind, until the point she felt it was overflowing. Today was her day, her day to shine. She could be the woman to go down in books now, the woman people like her past self could read about.
The bell rung, she let departed from her day dream.

*"There's a bullet in the chamber...I heard it.
A smile stretched across the man's face. It was a grim smile, but a smile nonetheless.
"You're going to lose. The hammer smashed into the back of the weapon, and the chamber explodes.

Michael looked up and sighed lightly as his threw the long, silver polyethylene case onto his new bed. His beloved Schim Rifle, the 4 foot long rifle came came in two sections in order to keep travel compact and conveniant. The gun at it's truest nature was one to be used in long range, out of the sight of the target. Michael favored this combat, the element of surprise, although he was no stranger to close ranger firearms. At his heart, he was a sniper, the quiet shadow that looms over his target, sitting and watching, for days, weeks. Watching the target, seeing the target's life, knowing it is in your hands. Becoming the target, living his life, going through his movements as if they were Michael's own. All until the perfect shot comes, and it is taken.

Finding his dorms was an easy enough task, and he had most everything he brought with him, which wasn't much to begin with just some clothes and his gun set up before he had heard the first bell summoning him to his first class. War tactics. He quickly left, he didn't know what to expect and he didn't care. The acedemy wasn't a chapter in his life Michael particularily awaited, but he would accept it.

Fastening a small survival knife close to his waist, he left his room and headed for class, a day of fresh meet for the older students, sure, and Mike was a quiet boy, one of a reserved, calculated nature, the other students would enjoy picking on him. But Michael knew he could hold his own.

Iris walked into her dorm after being trampled on in the hallways because no one noticed her at such a short height. She threw down her bags and sighed in relief. Iris streched and stood feeling akward at the weight that had just been tossed off of her back.
A bell rang and she knew it was off to War Tactics, the first class of her first year in the academy. Iris was extremly excited so she quickly put one sai on her waist and the other on her boot with the loops she had to attach them. The finishing touches were added to the other side of her waist...her shurikens. After making sure she had everything she dashed out the door to get to class.

"Damnit!"Sanji screamed infuriated.
Sanji a well built individual was walking to War Tactics, shoving those out of his way and staring down those refusing to budge.
"I can't go to my room...I'll have to take my spear and my bag to my first class... I shouldn't have been so friggen late!"He whispered to himself.
Sanji then glances at the spear in his right hand. He stares at the reflection in the golden
edge of the polearm when he smacks into a student.
"IM JUST TRYING TO GET TO MY CLASS! GET OUT OF MY WAY"he yells angrily.
"Finally..."Sanji mumbles.
He stops and glares at the door clearly labled "War Tactics" and kicks it open. He stares at the students sitting at the numerous desks. He finds a desk at the very back of the room and sits. Then placing down his spear and bag he glares at an obvious nerd with disgust.
"So teach, what's todays lesson?"

Xan sat, hastily. His mind was racing back and forth, without any control. He tapped his death anxiously, opening his tattered notebook and wildly flipping the pages.

(Come on everyone, get to class!)

Which seat, which seat...

Voran calculated his chances carefully. The back seats would be ideal for observation, so that he could take in everything about the class and classmates before jumping in. However, once he was ready to do so, it was difficult from such a detatched position. Usually, one that was both interactive and detatched ended up being a useless, if amusing, wise-cracker. On the other hand, he certainly didn't want to pick a position in the first two rows. Though ideal for "learning", if that was a pupil's goal, Voran much prefered the intellectual stimulation that came from a mixture of lessons and discussion thereof, or lack thereof, between the other students and himself. So, somewhere in the middle, in the thick of things. It was a risky choice, but, if successful, the most rewarding in the long run.

Nearby, another student was twittering anxiously with his papers. Damn, what kind of materials were the students expected to bring? This student obviously brought more than Voran had, as he had only thought to bring his usual study materials, a small notebook and a charcoal pencil. Another student sat in the far back, impatient and condecending. His weapon mirrored his personality; it seemed as if as much work had gone into its appearance outwardly as its worth inwardly, leaving question as to its true worth to the scrupulous observer. Well, in truth that was an unfair assesment. Voran checked himself before cementing such a negative impression of the student without truly meeting him. He struggled to keep as many assumptions out of his mind as possible, something his father, well served in his work to be able to count on his assesments of his co-workers, did his best to impart onto him. Also in the class was a girl that looked ready for a covert assasination, though it wouldn't be apparant by her demeaner, and a quiet boy, small in stature but seemingly deep in thought. He might well be an ally worth having, or an unexpectedly malignant enemy, if it came to that. He seemed the sort that would end up as his side's "secret weapon". Last of all, he noticed the teacher. She was a harder nut to crack, seemingly an introverted person, but one posessing the need to be celebrated, as if beholden to some secret destiny. But there he went again. Voran could not possibly be able to be certain of that with a glance, and, even if he was spot on, he needed to reserve judgement. If it were necessary at all, he would categorize her after she had had time to present her case. Sometimes Voran's mind worked to haphazardly for its speed to be advantageous.

Iris had been sitting in her seat for a few minutes now. While playing
the part of the cool and collected girl on the outside she was bursting
inside from nerves, they were all going haiwire. Iris decided to
observe the people in the room, to get her mind off of her nerves. She
scanned the area but only a few students caught her eye. The first was
a student who had stormed in the classroom just to take a seat in the
back and look quite aggrivated. Then a boy who looked nervous beyond
belief, he was fidgeting with a little book as if to keep his
nervousness under control. Last, was a boy who had just walked through
the door, looked over the class and sat in the middle off the class
room, just a few seats up and to her left. She wasn't sure what to make
of these students at all.
In the middle of her train of thought she had
taken out a Sai and was just running her finger across the blade when
she accidently cut the top of her finger. She made a quiet tutting
noise and sighed to herself as if it was an everyday annoying habit or
hers. She didn't mind much though...the cut really didn't hurt so she
just sat there and waited for the class to begin.

Slowly Sanji slumps down in his seat and stares at his new classmate. He's sitting in the middle which probably means he thinks too much. The student in the first row of desks is starting to irritate him. He has a nerdy look about him which doesn't seem like a great asset for war. Realizing the class isn't likely to start for another HOUR or so he gets up and grabs his pole-arm...he would hate to leave it. Slowly he walks over toward the boy in the middle and faces him.
"What's your name?"he asks in an almost demanding tone.

Voran was amused with the brutish way the student had even of introduction. It was if already the kid expected either to have Voran cow to him, or to make an enemy of him. As far as his technique, there would be no equals if he initiated every relationship, only underlings and enemies. Well, that was something neither Voran, nor the student, if he really thought about it, needed on the same side of a war. He didn't much care if, in the end, the student decided that he were an equal or a superior, but he certainly couldn't be expected to take orders from him when it counted.

How to react, then, wishing to remain on at least equal footing? He of course couldn't act daunted at all, but he didn't wish to mirror the student's gruff attitude; some people were not ready to see their own reflection. If he acted friendly and easy-laughing, he wouldn't be typefied as a coward... but he would probably be written off as useless. Though the amused aspect of it all was attractive; perhaps he could go the way of the bemused spectator, with a secretive attitude that sort of forces one to beleive that Voran actually had a secret. He didn't really, not much of one, but it couldn't hurt to be mysterious.

He chuckled eerily, without leaving his seat, as soon as the student had finished speaking.

"Me? I'm Voran Cordel. And you?"

"Sanji-Sama." he said quickly.
Sanji couldn't help but wonder WHY Voran had taken so long answering, it's not as if one could answer wrong. Thinking that much during a battle is incredibly well...stupid. Sanji took his gaze off Voran toward the other nervous student...God he's annoying. Slowly returning his gaze back to Voran he quickly said;
"I'm not here to make any friends, and I'm not here make any enemies. The ONLY reason I am here is to kill the enemies of our proud nation. All I care for is achieving a rank worthy of praise and going above and beyond my duty so far that I can be remembered with honor. What are you here for, to die and be forgotten like the many past or are you here to bring honor to your name?"
This question will determine Vorans personality...in Sanjis eyes at least.

For once, Voran's thoughts lingered only on an honest portrayal of his beliefs. He was a reactor, a strategist, but not a terribly long range planner. He took things one hurdle at a time. This made the entire war buzz together in his mind, thinking of individual battles, but not of winning. How does one win a war? It seemed that no one knew, or they'd have done it already. In this place of learning, Voran hoped profusely that he would find a mind capable of grasping the solution, or expand his own to that point of ability. Either way, he was determined to end the war, end the despair that he knew uniquely from an observational standpoint. His non-combative father allowed his family imunity to the horrors of war, being uninvolved with it. To some, that made them seem soft and unmotivated, but Voran saw it as his chance to aproach the battlefield with an untainted perspective, free of desire for revenge, but still full of the sorrow felt for friends, and friends of friends, because even detatchedness from the war was not far enough that you could avoid knowing someone affected by it. Yes, Voran wanted to end the sorrow, but not for petty individual revenge; instead, for a desire for all to live as he knew life could be. But the how of it was just far enough outside of his reach. One day he would find it. But for now, he was being asked a question.

A second or two passed as Voran stared at Sanji, pensively. Then he answered, standing now, with ferver he did not expect from himself. It was perhaps the least premeditated action of his to date.

"You speak of honor? When your grave sits lonely in an empty field, burned and salted by the enemy so that no crop will grow to feed the starving children of the villages, it will matter little whether, etched on that stone, it announces you a brave fool or a craven weakling. You will still be dead, and I will have none of it. I intend to bring peace, and to hell with the honor of it. If I must sacrifice my honor to allow peace to come, so be it. If I must sacrifice my life, so be it, as long as I am convinced it is truly worth it. Your honor interests me little. It is a fool's currency, and the spoils of it are few and insubstantial."

Draining the anger that had sprung into his visage, Voran slowly retook his seat, staring ahead at the damndedly inactive teacher. Class had better begin soon, before I make any more enemies out of my allies.

"PEACE WILL NEVER BE ACHIEVED YOU FOOL! AS MY GRAVE AND THE GRAVE OF FELLOW SOLDIERS GET DUG WHERE WILL YOU BE? YOU'LL BE FLEEING CLINGING TO THE HOPE THAT PEACE WILL COME! AS OUR PEOPLE ARE SLAUGHTERED ON EVERY FRONT YOU SPEAK OF PEACE?" He screamed with fury.
"AS OUR VILLAGES ARE PILLAGED AND OUR PEOPLE MURDERED, YOU SPEAK OF PEACE? I SHOULD CUT YOUR THROAT RIGHT NOW!" Sanji screams.
He quickly raises his polearm to the throat of Voran and in a fury is seriously contemplating ending his sad, pathetic existance.

*Michael looked up quietly at the outburst from his seat at the back of the room. He had entered quietly long ago, slipping past everyone mostly unnoticed, for it was his nature, the sniper's nature. Now he was slumped over in his desk for quite sometime waiting for class to begin. A boy walks in late and immediatly he begins trouble...he wasn't going to last a day on a real battlefield.

"Shut up" Michael sincerly protested. He did not have to think about nor ponder his words. For his mind was a calculated one, like a machine. In an instant Michael could process many choices and scenarios and pick the one he thought best. To lay quietly, and watch two kids either kill themselves or get suspended on day 1, or to try and impose some maturity on them.

His head still slumped down, he rolled his eyes up to Sanji. "Sit down, and shut up." He repeated, moving his hand down to the survival knife locked at his side.

Damn, I've let this go too far.

Voran felt little fear when the spearpoint jumped to his throat, but anxiety of a different sort, that of expulsion. He needed to watch himself; he could probably take this punk, but it was hardly worth the loss of a... spirited soldier, and doing so was jeopardizing to his career, hardly begun as it was. He would have to diffuse the situation, but certainly not be cowing to Sanji's "superiority". He was being threatened because Sanji thought him a coward, something Voran would have to disprove. He stared at the student for several seconds, watching his breaths, heaving and full of rage, slowly return to normal as his anger subsided. Before Sanji had a chance to decide to strike, and after he was slightly less enrages, Voran spoke.

"Is this your honor? Killing an unarmed student sitting in a classroom, just for expressing an idea you don't like? Save it for the battlefield, and I'll see what I can do about winning some of your precious battles."

Sanji pulls the spearpoint from his throat.
"No, this is anger. I was expecting a counter-attack but not of words. I'll have you know something; This war was STARTED by people expressing their own ideas, as is every other. Speech is not such an innocent thing. Honor will never be achieved by anyone in this room. I will butcher the enemies untill I drop, you will probably be in the intelligence units, the nerdy one no doubt will be in the front lines, and the quiet one might be able to achieve something similar but thats highly doubted. But there is one thing I can guarrantee, three-fourths of the people you will meet here are going to die. Death can no longer be feared."

Xan leapt up at the glance of the spearhead, and within a short moment he stood stationary beside Sanji. His hands were clasped around the resting daggers within his belt.

Dema had arisen from her desk, and hastily made her way to the trio of fighters. She threw her hands up in anger, and pryed the three of them apart. Her palm was closed tightly around the pole of Sanji's spear, a portion of her sight was dedicated to the gleaming blades of Xan's daggers. She began to hiss a reprimand.
"Barbarians, are you? Do you wish for me to send you down to security? If I must throw you down there physically, I shall. Now, if you wish to calm yourselves down, and get ready for class, maybe we can learn a bit about War Tactics. Hm?"

Xan was almost immediatly in his seat, anxiously waiting for the tense silence to end.

Iris had been watched this charade for a few minutes and was not enjoying
it. This boy started trouble with someone for their ideas and for the
way they think?...Iris didn't want to get involved but i felt it was wrong
for this "sanji" to start for such an idiotic reason. People have
different minds therefore different opinions and they act as
individuals towards he same situation. This had gone on long enough,
Iris turned in her desk to second this voice of a male in the back of
the classroom. But what her eyes met was an infuriated looking mistress
Dema. She yelled and threatened them.
Iris didn't like the idea that some people in this school would need reminding that they are no longer in second grade. She settled back down into her desk and payed attension for the long-awaited beginning of this class.

((Sorry, but this calls for a time skip. I won't let this die so soon. For everyone who wasn't, or hadn't, post!))


Time passed, and the somewhat hectic War Tactics class came to a relieving end. With Sanji, Voran, and Xan now in their seats, things had proceeded to go smoothly. Mistress Dema went over Guerilla Tactics with the class, under the impression this would be the smartest tactic for unexperienced soldiers to use, realistically. Although the lesson was somewhat boring, it's droaning rate had finally finished, and the bell rung.

Xan looked at the small segment of paper that had laid within his pocket. Basic Self Defense was next up, with Lieutenant Tobin. This name made Xan's stomach drop. Anyone from the military caused Xan's neck hairs to stand on end. He approached the class room nervously. A large portion of him wished to turn around and head the other way. The doorway was suddenly before him.
Xan stepped through.

Voran sat through his War Tactics class in mute absorbtion. The lecture about Geurilla tactics was, in fact, a bit insightful. His grandfather, a military man of no negligable distinction, had taught him a small ammount of war strategy, but the more classical ideas, while they still had their place on the battlefield, were what some would call outdated, while the current Guerilla tactics employed by certain small units in hostile territory were cutting edge in employment. A war with as many fronts as this forced some improvements in the way battles were fought and won, and knowledge of this was invaluable. Throughout the class, Voran filed the information away in his mind.

Afterwards was Basic Self Defence. Voran turned toward his dormitories to retrieve his weapon, noticing its absence from his back after War Tactics. However, as he reached his door, halfway between his starting point and destination, he realized that taking his sword was foolish. The "basics" were obviously refering to unarmed combat, a realization made all the more obvious by noticing the name of his next class... Weapons Training. However, that class was on the same side of the Acadamy (apparently divided into academic and physical classes) as his next class, and he did not want to go the equivalent of the entire accademy's diameter by making a round trip from one side, to the dorms at center, and back again. No, he would take his sword with him, deciding what to say about it if asked only when the time came. After all, he did not know many of the students, or this Liutenant Tobin that was the instructor. He would have to see what their personalities dictated that Voran should do.

Upon entry to his, formerly, single dormitory, he was taken aback to find another bed, his own having been dragged to the side. There were no bags additional to Voran's, so the student obviously had been assigned to this room during the first class. I don't know who'll end up being my roommate, he thought as he affixed his mammoth sword to his back, but I hope to the gods it isn't Sanji.

He finally set off to his Basic Self Defence class, arriving at the entrance to the combat-oriented side of the acadamy at the same time as another member of the class he had recently left. It was the student that had wisely chosen to stay physically distant from his and Sanji's quarrel, while trying to offer some sage, if gruff, advice. Voran had thought earlier that he might be a proficient ally, and thought that befriending the student would be advantageous. Of course, beyond all his planing, Voran really just wanted some intelligent conversation. It occured to him that this quiet student may just be the keeper of most of it to be found on this campus.

The student's progress was interesting. He was walking through crowds of chattering students, who failed to dignify his existance at all. Any other student would be imediately judged to be a shoe-in for their clique, or an instantly spurned outcaste. He just... walked through them, like they didn't exist. Or like he didn't. Well, it was too late to avoid Voran's attention, skillful as the student may have been at it.

"Hello. I'm Voran, from your War Tactics class; I didn't catch your name. I've got to thank you for how you acted. One of them stood up for me, another stayed out of it, and the teacher, of course, scolded us both without bothering to tell what the trouble was. I think you're the only one that realized, until I did a little later, that me and Sanji were both being obstinate morons."

*Imagine two pendulums swinging in front of the lens, always swinging, never ending. As you see your target, the pendulums become clearer and clearer. And finally, when they are clear enough for you to see your very soul inside of, that is when you are ready to take the shot.

Michael's concentration was broken by another boy introducing himself as he walked past. This was one of the students in the academy that was involved in that arguement, though the more passive of the bunch, he lent considerably to the problem. He didn't blame the other boy, of course, he was simply stating his beliefs, it was the other that was in the wrong. Michael failed to bring this thoughts to words as he introduced himself to Voran. He was much more intregied by the amount of attention Voran paid toward him, how he had chosen to speak to him among the many other students. Michael had a gift of dissapearing in large crowds, perhaps it was a mistake to make himself know in the earlier class.

"Don't worry about it, I'm sure everyone gets nervous for the first few weeks in the academy...it's like everything you once knew is thrown the window, beliefs and all." He extended his hand to Voran, "I'm Michael, just call me Mike. Nice to meet you, Voran." Though he is oft an distant individual, as it was dangerous to become involved with many, the more of an identity he made, the less potent on the battlefield he'd become. However he was seldom gruff nor rude to any person that had the gall to express kindness to him, especially one that could admit that they had a lot to learn, still...they all did. All in all, Michael could be a good friend. Another noteworthy observation, he realized, was that Voran had taken what appeared to be his weapon with him, a titanic blade, most likely used for smashing bones rather than slicing or tearing flesh was fastened to his back. It was curious, but then he remembered that his next class after this one, "Weapons Training" was nearby, and his dorm room was not....Voran seemed to be a man who thought ahead, Michael was one who engulfed himself in the present at all times. It was senseless to worry about the future, he beliefed, because you could be dead a second from now.

Still, it would have saved him a walk. A smirk stretched across his face, and he supposed that mindset would give him a definate edge on the battlefield.

"Well, I don't want to be late the first day here, see you in class."

Frevel Tobin was not seated in his classroom, waiting for his first students to enter. In fact, he was seated before someone else in a desk. The leading figure of the Keshuit Academy, Dir Obrel, a rigid and wise man. Someone who had almost no military history, yet was feared by the highest ranking soldiers in the Kilis armies.
Dir laid hunched over his desktop, his chin held up by his long slender fingers, which were twiddling back and forth as he spoke. Frevel was waiting eagerly for the news, yet hiding it under a stone frown.
"It's obsurd, Frevel! Never in my years running this school have we ever been so threatened! Our army is sitting down on the job, waiting until we lose hundreds innocent civilians! Then, when our people are dying, do they help! The Jagan armies are scaling the lands, snapping every man, woman, and child's neck they spot. From what I've heard, the Iu nation will be under 90% Jagan control by midnight!" Dir paused, rubbing his eyes in an exhausted manner, as if he'd been up the entire night.
"How bold they are, those Jagan scum!" He scoffed, slamming his hand down onto the table.
Frevel was listening intently, his fingers twirling as well. He laid back in his chair after Dir had finished speaking. The two stared at each other for a few moments, silently asking each other to gift them with an answer.
"Well, to start off, is Keshuit in any danger?" Frevel was known to be calm in hectic situations, but the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead had not seemed to insure this would continue.
"No, not as of yet. But, the Jagan army is advancing quickley! I bet you our nation they will be here in a week, no less! If our forces don't prepare soon, the Jagan army will crack through our defenses as if we were minor toothpicks! Dammit.."
"Listen, allow me to continue my class. If the Jagan squads arrive, at least my students will have a chance to defend themselves. Send out a scout, and if worse comes to worse, we'll pull the students into hiding."
"How can you remain so lax about this? Making up such a simple plan! We're doomed!"
"Do we have any other choice?"
"We could commit suicide, and get the job done!"
Neither of the men chuckled at this joke, for it was certainly not funny. Dir let his head down in shame, and Frevel departed from the room and to his class. Today's class would be a different one. One, in a slightly more advanced genre. Now, it was up to seeing if his students could handle it.

(Sorry I had to go away for vacation)
Sanji finally got up from his desk, the lesson today had been simple, like childs play. Sanji had studied warfare since a young child and that's all that has been in his mind since five. Finally he trudged out of the room slowly making his way to his next class...although he completely forgot what it was. He hated Voran, and the twitchy kid annoyed him as well. He was ready to let him go and release his anger in a different way when the nerd decided he wanted to step in.
"Oh CRAP! Basic self defense!" he yelled. He had just realized that he had been going to the complete opposite part of the school. Clutching his spear tightly he sprinted towards his next class.

Iris listened intently in her first class just as she intended to do with all of her classes. She set out immediatly for basic self defense and hoped that in this class she would get to fight a little. Iris was walking through the halls and looked from door to door, but she was completly lost. With no sense in direction she wandered on, looking for a familiar face from her last class, this way she could ask for assistance. She groan inwardly as she saw that boy from earlier...
"if only i could remember his na...Sanji!! That's it," he was running down the hall towards her. "It wouldn't hurt to ask him i guess" she grumbled out and went to step towards the passing boy.

Sanji stopped hahatrd and almost bashed into Iris. What the hell was she doing?
"What do you think your doing? How about just tripping me next time."
He said angrily.

Iris knew this wasn't going to be pleasent but she needed a little help getting to class. "Listen i'm not used to this place yet and i am not here to bicker with you, but i need a little direction to get to the basic self defense classroom. If you would be so kind as to lead the way or just tell me the way, please, keep speaking."...

((Skipping a bit, since I didn't have enough people posting their actual arrivals.))

The bell chimed, it's heavy sound pulsing down the hallways. It was a rare occurance for men and woman to be late within the walls of any Academy. People did not want to take the chance. The authorities was simply a group of men who were thrown out from the army and into the head positions of the school. Only few cared of their job, most just threw the children into suspension and went back to dwelling over the sadness of their lives. The Academy was an important landmark, but it could easily prove to be on of the most depressing.

Frevel was seated upon the edge of his desk. The students had just retreated into their desks. Moments upon moments, only silence had dominated inside the classroom. Finally, Frevel withdrew a long breath of air. The room smelled of a constuction area, it's most powerful aroma was the one of soot. Frevel stood, and approached the front row.
"Today, we will go in depth into intermediate self defense." He paused, scanning the students. "Yes, I'm aware this is a basic class. Though, because of certain circumstances, our curriculum will change. For the time being."
"If you would all please cooperate, and follow me outside, we can begin the class."
He grinned, and opened the door beside him. Before him was a lavish park-like area, surrounded by grand trees. Even Frevel, who had seen it plently of times, could not help to stare for a moment in awe. He cleared his throat, and gestured the students to follow him.