Adolin Sinnet: 100G
[hider=Inventory]Head: N/A

Chest: Leather Jerkin

Gauntlets: N/A

Pants: Leather Leggings

Greaves: N/A

Feet: Leather Boots

[Wooden Long-Bow (x20 Bronze Arrows) / Bronze Bastard Sword]
x1 Packed Sardines (MP)
Revive Tome
Magic Pickaxe
Rope
Torch[/hider]
[hider=Spellbook]Starting Spells (* denotes Custom Spells):
[LV 1] Ravage (Dark - Beginner - 15 MP)
[LV 2] Divine Touch (Support - Beginner - 25 MP)
[LV 2] Erosion (Support - Beginner - 20 MP)
[LV 1] Reaper* (Wind - Beginner -10 MP)
[LV 1] Black Hand* (Shadow - Beginner - 10 MP)[/hider]

Adolin Sinnet whistled as he eyed the monstrous being that suddenly took form from the malicious ritual. He crouched low, hiding among the huge rubble that decorated the plaza, chunks of rock being strewn across the now nearly-empty square that resulted from the brutish ambush of the blue-cloaks. Though the young man was obviously bruised and scratched, with his tunic loosely hanging in shreds from underneath his jerkin, Adolin's breathing remained calm and his mind collective as he tapped his glowing, Enchanted blade

He took a moment to discern some sort of strategy. Scattered about him were the heroes he had noticed during the battle, each individual burning with the fires of a certain resolution. In could be seen in there eyes that they were not going to back down - their souls had reflected in them a certain light that indicated their will to fight, or die trying. The man couldn't help but grin, as they had the same light that flared within his - after all, this was just too much excitement to walk away from. 

In a span of several minutes, the fight with the behemoth of a Spirit unfolded before Adolin's analytical gaze. He pursed his lips as he noticed it's immunity to Dark magic, as demonstrated by a skilled Elf who had used Ravage on it to no avail. However, it [i]did[/i] respond to the burst of Holy Fire from a fearsome Dragonborn, and also to the attack of a pirate and his crew, who had drenched their weapons in Holy Water. It momentarily healed itself to his dismay, but his eyes were sharp enough to notice the small, unmended cracks that plagued it's sickly armor.

But then it reared it's ugly head and engaged a young Sader in one-to-one combat. After a few moments of quick exchange, the heavy blunt of its vicious sword sent the figure of the Sader falling into a splintering mess of nearby kiosks.

That was enough to spring Adolin into action. From behind the piece of rubble where he remained hidden, the young wanderer vaulted over it with grace and landed with a solid thud on stone before sprinting towards the battle. In his hand gripped his sword that flared with the flames of magic, and he kept it low to the ground as his slender frame sliced through the wind as he neared the Pirate and his men. Without taking a moment to stop, the young man withdrew from his pouch a glass bottle of Chocolate Milk, in which in downed in seconds. Already he could feel the ache seeping from his body. 

Approaching the intimidating men and the gourd of Holy Water, Adolin made no time to introduce himself as he stopped and plunged the glass bottle, filling it with the water of Gods. 

"Be ready to throw everything you got," was all he barked as he took off sprinting again, this time, in the direction towards the monster - flaring sword in one hand, and a wet, slippery bottle in another. 

Adolin let out a tremendous roar as he ran up the cobblestones of a giant piece of rubble, launching himself high in the hair, sword poised to the skies behind as his body flew towards the distracted monster, hoping he could draw it away from the injured Sader. He could feel Divine Touch seeping away as it's duration neared an end, but it was enough for this task alone. With a mighty over-head arched strike, Adolin slammed his trusty sword along the portion of the Spirit's armor that harbored the faint cracks. Magic flared brilliant from the force and contact, and the reckless man threw his whole weight behind the attack, hoping to disrupt the malicious being by widening it's damaged hull, which were signs of it being wounded by the heroes' earlier barrage. For added measure, Adolin smashed the glass bottle against his blade, hoping that the Holy Water may cleanse the darkness that lie underneath this hulk of demonic metal

With a final push, the man launched off of the monstrous being, falling straight for the ground. As he impacted, he gave a quick evasive roll to put distance from himself and his foe. Landing in a kneeling position not too far away from the Elf he noticed before, Adolin raised his hand and launched a massive arc of ghostly magic that surrounded the Ritualistic Spirit: the misty veils of Erosion.

"Aim for the wounded portions of its armor, which I have now further weakened! Deepen it's cracks, make it suffer with the holiness of God and Light!" He shouted to the warriors about him, blade raised in front of him in a defensive stance, although the blade dimmed back to ordinary bronze. His breathing began to labor due to his excessive use of magic.

[b]Mana: 70/100[/b]