CraftPrime

Accepted.

Smoke reads through the poster, scanning and taking in the information before finally lifting his head to the sky, exhaling a deep breath. "Independence, huh? It's been a long time since we had something like that..."

ACCEPTED! Come to Ac'Talareh and we will further examine your capabilities. ACCEPTED! Come to Ac'Talareh and we will further examine your capabilities. Note - Once joining the Arcane Delvers and entering our Ruins... Rest assured, you will not come back out a 'sane' person.

Awesome idea. It'll keep the Delvers busy for a while.

ACCEPTERD! We currently cannot accept you as a Delver Arcanist. For now, we will accept you as a Delver Vigilante and from within the Guild, you can find yourself a teacher of your choosing. Thank you for applying.

Correction: "Tears of Manliness".

Accepted as Delver Vigilant!

I nominate the Ac'Talareh Ruins. It's a very smexy place, I can guarantee that much.

ACCEPTED!

ACCEPTED! Come to Ac'Talareh for further initiation. We will see you're made of there...

ACCEPTED! Your application shows great potential. We haven't had a proper Smith around the Arcane Delvers ever since our very own Dizzy! Having someone to support or even work by his side would definitely be a positive thing! Welcome!

DENIED! After careful consideration and thinking, we've decided that you are not what we are looking for. Thank you for trying to apply, however.

"Seriously!? I thought his initials were his real name. The more ya know..."

LET THE BATTLES COMMENCE!

Smoke is seen standing in a straight and still position before Varlan's grave. His eyes focused on the words carved on the tombstone. Nonchalantly, he looks to the cloudy skies, simultaneously sighing. "Var, out of all the ways to die, this is how it ends for you?" He chuckles. "It really is unfair... I'm going to miss you, old friend..." Turning back around to the entrance of Ac'Talareh, Smoke strides off. His eyes not widening one bit.

Smoke takes the application and proceeds to read it, his eyes rolling and scanning - one would assume he was skimming the application, but I digress. He chuckles for a moment and sits down on his chair. He writes back to the applicant. ACCEPTED! "I was surprised at your application. Usually we don't have many females around the Guild who would volunteer for the role of Delver Vigilant. And since you asked for the position, so you shall have it. Welcome to the Delvers. We hope you put your sword to great use." He stamps it.

Smoke stares at the application with an arched brow. He simply exhales before sitting back in his desk, replying to the applicant. DENIED. Sorry, we're not looking for people who show no acquired skills for the position they're applying for. Thank you for trying, however.

Smoke takes the application and scans through the text. He slowly nods, clearly interested in the participant. He stamps it. ACCEPTED. Come to the Ac'Talareh when you feel you are ready.

ACCEPTED!

Smoke looks over the application, blinking only after reading it. He gives it a swift stamp. ACCEPTED!

Smoke reads the application, he scratches his head briefly before writing an instant reply. He stamps it. "Come to the Arcane Delver base for confirmation. We are unsure whether to accept or deny you but those ruins show great potential."

8/10. (Btw, it's Lelouche Vi Britannia. :D)

7/10

In the midst of the forest near Ac'Talareh, Smoke is seen swinging and thrusting his blades in a patterned manner. With two sickle-like weapons on each hand he carves at the tree barks, laying nothing but scars on the skin. The sickle-weapons are attached to each other via a chain linked to the bottom of each handles. After a while of doing the same thing, Smoke paused for a moment and loitered on the trees for a while, lifting his head up to the sky. "Getting rusty, eh?" he seems to say to himself after giving off a sigh. He gets back into a battle-phased position, looking to start continuing his training. He reaches for his waist-belt swiftly, he takes out a throwing knife. He pivots his position approximately 45* degrees left, the throwing knife on right hand now being prepared to launch as he contracts said arm, gaining the momentum he needs to land a successful throw. He attempts a swing and the knife, as expected by him no less, stuck out of the body of a nearby tree, giving off a small vibration whilst doing so. Smoke returns to his lazed posture and exhales, his head now looking down. "Maybe... Not."

Badass Hipster. 9/10