Once a thriving monastery, Circadus Academy was nestled into the crook of two great mountains, protected on three sides by the great cliff faces, and before a colossal drop to the forests below. The old town and its wealth of knowledge, veterans and young talent was hidden away from the world, but it wasn't a mystery to the world. Everyone who had ever felt the flow of magic, natures natural force, through their body, would hear eventually of this place. Those with gifts were sent here to learn, and many would return great and power people, with the elements at their sides and many skills to assist in times of both peace and war.<br/><br/>Abandoned as it was by eastern monks, the old temple had a distinct Asian quality to it, much of the ground unpaved in favor of well tended grass. The sun was high up but the air was stagnant and cold, the hot breath of the many young trainees frosting before them as they trained and sparred. In one such clearing, in a ring of turned soil, stood Jakkalin.<br/><br/>A sour faced girl of Eastern appearance, she seemed to always taste lemons. High cheekbones, slanted green eyes and smooth, white skin, she would have been considered pretty if she knew how to smile. Thin, nimble and sinuous, she gave the impression of a viper, one that may strike out at anything and anyone. This was not far from the truth, sadly. Her emotional state was something that was always bringing new gossip to the Academy.<br/><br/>Brought here as a baby bound in blankets, she was abandoned by her mother, for she bore an ominous birthmark. A candle flame. This had always been her home, but never had she been happy. She grew with a powerful and growing hatred of all things around, and looked upon happy lovers and families with self destructive rage. While this fire was always just below the surface, her mental and emotional stability went much deeper then simple anger, and more then a few times she had simply cried for her self inflicted exile.<br/><br/>Wearing a simple set of sack cloths, a pair of knee length pants and a shirt, she tossed her two long, thick ropes of black hair out of her face and spread her feet, hands near the hilts of her two weapons, a long and slender sword on her back, and wicked looking dagger at her left hip. Her feet were bare but she needed no foot wear.<br/><br/>"Ready?" the few times she was genuinely happy was during sparring with her friend. She would almost always lose to the girl, but she was one of the few people that she could fight against without ridicule or argument.