[Center][img]https://64.media.tumblr.com/e6ea224143f7a0fc5f2f5648e7ea8abe/tumblr_os68iuswWY1uob8tfo1_540.gifv [/img] You prepare yourself for adventure, equipped with all the knowledge of literacy and the wonders of Arcane spellcasting/[s]punching[/s] and none of the actual spells.

Bastion Gem in hand, you bathe in the blue light of teleportation, shortly finding yourself staring up into a beautiful morning sky in an open glade. Around you, other graduates you are mildly acquainted with materialise.

Behind you, a mule snorts. At least, you assume it is a mule. It is a stout, broad creature of humorously small stature with a bulbous head atop unnervingly rippling neck muscles. It observes you with uncaring, bulbous eyes. A nauseating brightly coloured headband, embroidered in cheerful script, proclaims it to be Carl. Carl is displeased.

Attached to Carl is a large cart, stocked with several crates. You consider some of these might contain the wands, and others, the supplies you were promised to receive.

A light, cool breeze rustles nearby trees in a lazy sway. The air here is slightly sweet and peaceful. Before you, a babbling stream gurgles and sloshes down as a waterfall, raising gentle mists. A rough stone stairway descends beside it, leading down into a circular chasm. You would need to get closer to see more.

You consider your options and the brief knowledge of the local area you received. Down the steps - the dungeon. To the Northwest, through the forest, lies the outskirts of civilisation. Far to the south lies the haunted Barrowlands, a place of opportunity but teaming with the undead. To the northeast, the forest deepens. [/center]