Blood Purist

Dragged to our first class together, held outside below the glare of the sun within a massive colosseum that spanned multiple football fields, my heart stirred as I stared at the unknown dozen or so first-years gathered in the air and on the ground. Some bore wings like a wyvern; others held bird-like wings with various features that did not bring down my expectations. I marveled from half-elves to Dragonborn, lizardmen, Teridians, Somalrians, Trents, and more. There had been so many it felt like I had entered Blackpool for the first time. 

"First Years!" A gallant voice consumed with heroism bore down within the air, ensnaring my attention as I turned to a middle-aged Teridian. He stood firm like that of an oak tree bearing a mane of fire that shimmered like that of a burning star.