Warcery

You've heard about this place. The legendary School of Warcery. In reality, it's hard to call it a school. It's an arena. You've been here before, in your imagination. Together with other kids from your village you've been throwing snowballs immitating Firebolts at each other. When you grew up, the perspective of fighting to death has somehow lost it's charm. How come you're here then? The usual way - one day some guards came to your village, and with them a skinny man looking like a clerk. The guards gathered all boys your age in one place. The skinny clerk needed only a few seconds to find you. He pointed his finger at you, and two of the guards grabbed you, while the third hit you at the back of your head. And now you're here - in a small room, standing before the skinny clerk you've seen in your village. You rub the back of your head, surprised not to feel pain. The skinny clerk looks at you, and says: "Well, don't you stand there. This is your new life. We'll make a Warceror out of you, whether you like it or not. What's your name?"

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