[center][color=seagreen][h3]Artemisia[/h3][/color][/center]

Much sooner than she would have liked, Artemisia found herself diverted from her ongoing attempts to make up interesting backstories for these people, and by that spear-wielding Mitra girl nonetheless. She looked pointedly at the black mage while suggesting the general conversation get back to introductions. [i]Nice try, Midriff. You don't have the room with you, so I'm not taking the hint.[/i] If she didn't want to put up with the self-aggrandization of Avaddon and Blaike, she could either space out like Artemisia or learn to love it. 

Luckily for Mitra -and everyone, really- the center of attention shifted away from the one-upping between Blaike and Avaddon as Edgar gave his name, profession, and shortly thereafter a declaration of earnestness. The spotlight then fixated solely on the proctor, one Balder Grescott, who took control of the situation in order to brief the group of would-be hunters on exactly what their assignment entailed. From the sound of it, they would be wiping out a cluster of ravenous juvenile plant-monsters called Miniboros, which sounded like a real problem in a swarm, with the added bonus of a potential mommy or daddy 'boro nearby. The man sauntered about the room, scanning each of them with his eyes as if he could figure them out by their looks alone. Artemisia smiled sweetly at Balder when he looked her way, though the smile didn't reach her eyes. If nothing else she appreciated him condoning a hasty retreat if things got out of hand, which had been a card already stashed up her sleeve anyway. She took her form and began to write.

Everyone mulled over the new information, but it was Edgar who spoke up first. He'd already done well enough to establish himself as the eager, probably naive young go-getter, but what came out of his mouth next provoked a giggle despite Artemisia's best attempts to mask it. [color=seagreen]“Pffff...!”[/color] Well, maybe not her best, to be honest. But how could she keep herself together after that? The line was so adorably goofy. The black mage hoped Edgar lived to come up with a better one for next time. Artemisia penned her signature at the bottom of her form: [i]The Skybound Sorceress, as Witty as She is Pretty: Artemisia.[/i] By the time she handed it back, Blaike had managed to pump out a few sentences' worth of attempting to convince the others that slaying the senior Malboro would be the altruistic thing to do. Artemisia agreed; that did not mean that she would do it. Heroic ideas about doing what's right got people killed, or as a totally random and non-specific example, turned into hideous fiends while trying to spare loved ones the same fate. Blaike seemed pretty damn pleased with himself about his wordplay, but as a follow-up to the spontaneous charm of Edgar's attempt it just came off as trying too hard. 

As the group got up in preparation for departure, a few strings of conversation endured. Mitra pledged her support for everyone, which earned her an appreciative look from Artemisia. Her impressions of the unexpectedly chipper dragoon might be off, she realized. [i]I'll hold you to that![/i] After another moment or two the black mage rose from her seat and followed the other hunters out the door, happy to lag behind at the group's rear. 

She thought about the mission ahead. Was she worried? Not really. Should she be? Maybe. Six souls would be standing between her and the monsters they needed to slaughter, but in the woods just about anything could happen. Yet she felt pretty confident that her story would not end today, not in such an inglorious fashion. A book of many pages did not end in chapter one.