[colour=firebrick][h1] Alistair Kuruz [/h1][/colour]

Alistair watched the reactions to his little performance from behind thin wisps of smoke that curled gently out of his mouth. He dragged in on the cigarette deeply, as one of his students who was rune marked himself called out. Another criticized his life choice of chain smoking and alchol abuse. A teacher who he hadn't cared enough to get on even a formal second name basis also gave him a stern talking to. Alistair just didn't care at the moment. His mind was too caught up with what A had pronounced.

 He had forgotten about the Magus Games. Or he had tried to. He rubbed at the scar again and was immediately thrown back in time to how he had gotten it. A searing pain. Flames. Blades. Poison and magic. All roiled up into one unpleasant memory. 

His unpleasant revelry was brought to a halt as the new instructor began talking. He crushed out the cigarette and stood back up. He kind of just needed that to calm down. 

“[colour=firebrick]I'll take it from here[/colour]” he said to the other teachers and shooed them out of his class, light gusts of winds emphasising his gestures. He turned back to the class and smiled politely “[colour=firebrick]my apologies for that little...thing…[/colour]” he rubbed his fingers through his hair “[colour=firebrick]the Director is a powerful but infinitely infuriating man[/colour]” his voice was still at a magical volume but it was more contained. Less deafening wall and more calm teaching loud “[colour=firebrick] so...I will be your instructor on all things the theory behind the various schools of magic as set forth by Baphel himself, Combat magic and the use of all schools inside a combat situation and psychology[/colour]” he smiled once more “[colour=firebrick] so as this is our first day...a brief overview of the schools[/colour]”

---------Teaching Happens--------

Alistair had forgotten that not all of these students were out of their first year. His passion for magic and it's theory had gotten to him and each sentence ran into each other. He began writing and speaking in shorthand and by the time the lecture had finished, the man had just been able to squeeze the last things he wanted in. He looked sheepishly at the gathered students, some furiously writing notes and others with dull glazed over faces. 

“[colour=firebrick]oh...my apologies[/colour]” he laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. The door opened to his class and he motioned and gave them the chance to leave. He looked up in to the crowd and searched for Iravis, catching her eyes in an effort to bring attention to their need to talk.