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"It’s about damned time,” the boy thought to himself as the sun began to crest its peak at the top of the hillside he was camped in the shade of. Both quick and silent he was as he accounted for his belongings. The pentagram shaped scar on his palm slid comfortably along the chalky leather of the twin bastard sabre’s sheathings. The dark tormenting memories had reoccurred the night before, as per the norm when he was on a mission of this sort. Though it was joked within the Templars that he only was as high in rank because of his familial ties he was indeed the resident witch hunting expert and whenever a mission of such caliber came up, he was the goto guy, Akzel Payne, Templar #9
Akzel rose from his squatted position as a tremor shot through his body. It was a warm sensation that originated from one of the two watch-like devices on his wrists. The youth raised his lengthy right army flicking his wrist to rotate the band to where the face would be towards him. The case and band on this device were a metallic black set at quarters with lavender gems as buttons. The face was a mass of glowing lights, a lavender pulsing background with charges of blue flowing throughout it in different directions. With a click of the upper most right lavender button the face spun and an orb of lavender rose into the air in front of the boys tanned brown face reflecting in the dark violet of his eyes causing a ghostly glare.
Within the orb he saw his target, a girl no older then himself. [color=”indigo”]Too bad she’s one of them, kinda cute.”[/color] he immediately tensed and his face took on a look of disgust as suddenly the scattered blue sprites along the sphere began to gather around the girl and suddenly a sword of pure flames sprung to life in her hands.
A sound of pure disgust and hatred escaped the boys rage caked throat as he slammed his hand to his side, dissipating the image. He headed around the hill and could see the quant village growing before his village. Though he had no sight of the girl he could tell by the reflection of fire playing across the shadowed alley wall of a barn that she was in that direction. He headed that way without acknowledging any of the villagers curious at the sight of this modern young man. He stood just under 6 feet tall and, for what little meat there was to the obvious youth, he was very well toned. His hairless calves could be seen in the gap where the alternating black and emerald square designs at the border of his loose white capris split from the black and white high top sneakers he wore. The matching emerald green hood of his sleeveless vest kept his dark blue, almost black hair down hiding eyes intent upon the girl, no the bruja had cast her last profanity upon this innocent village.