[h2]Flint Dunigan - Belka Graveyard[/h2]
"Not a single day passes," Flint remarked, holding his table still from the distant rumbling, "And this rambunctious group already found themselves in a heap of trouble." Flint had holed himself up in the Belka inn during Frenzy Plant's investigation, stowed away in the corner while drinking to himself. He had only arrived in this strange little town two days ago, hiding up in the secluded area as a retreat away from the world. The job of hunting was exhausting, but having your prey as magical humans just made things even more tiring for the hunter. He needed to rest on occasion, and the poor town of Belka was always the perfect place as everyone seemed to mind their own business in the dreadful area. Flint had it good, sitting down relaxing while having a nice drink, but that ended when some random guild of mages strutted into Belka. Flint never liked these types of folk, running around like they owned the place with their fancy powers, not giving any regard to the normal people that lived their lives. Their insanity always mixing up the innocent folk with their grandiose fighting, and in the end the public seemed to be fine with this viscous cycle of destruction. It was not to say that Flint hates guilds that use their powers for good, but most of the time it's their usual carefree attitude of those guilds that annoy him the most. These people were gifted with powers that put them higher above the normal citizen, and it is that these powers should be controlled and trained. Though, enough on this tangent, Flint took another swig from the bottle before paying the tab for his stay. Pulling up his mask, donning the sombrero, and whistling out a sharp tune. Flint was ready to end this town's madness.

Riding on his horse, Flint traversed through cobblestone roads of Belka. Passing by the townsfolk at great speed, the sounds of hooves clacking against the road as it synced with the beating heart of the cowboy. It didn't take much of a detective to find out they were fighting something big, the gloomy sky being painted with spells as roars from the monster echoed through the streets. "Faster, faster!" Flint yelled, taking a sharp turn to the right. These fights could get out of hand fast, and fights within town walls were always calling for bad news for the town and their people.

The sound of fighting was close, and Flint could barley stand the stench of rotting flesh piercing his nostrils. Another shattering roar vibrated through Flint's very being, and as he turned another corner something seemed wrong in his core. Flint hurdled himself off his horse, crashing against the cobblestone road at a dangerous speed. In under half a second after Flint had thrown himself off, a projectile of rotted flesh pierced through the air in where he was sitting, slamming deeply into the wall behind him. He screamed in silence, slamming into the cobblestone while tumbling through the rocky surface as the fighting continued. It was only until Flint latched his strong mechanical fingers into the ground, allowing him to slide to a stop. "Fuck, that hurt." Flint wheezed to himself, getting up from the great pain that ached through his body. Staggering to his feet, Flint looked up to watch the eldritch abomination towering over the mages, and the apparent rage that flailed through the graveyard. "Oh... This might be something... Above my pay grade," Flint heaved out, eyeing the strangely still battlefield. Though, it was only until a battle cry that almost echoed as loud as the monstrous roar that inspired Flint to act.

"Stand clear!" Flint yelled, a metal arm extending outside of the poncho with great speed. The scrappy piece of metal pointing straight at the horror with his hand shaped as a gun. "Beam." A red magic seal, the size of someones palm appeared at the tip of his finger, rotating in a slow manner. "Of." A second magical seal appeared, the diameter of the second magic seal larger than the last, but this time it was spinning in a faster rate. "Entropy." Similarly, a third magical seal appeared while the symbols starting to blur from the speed of the seal. "Times Five!" Two seals, one bigger than the other appeared in a blood red aura, spinning at a blurring speed that no one could possibly try to follow. Flint cocked his gun, and fired. The first seal fired out a beam, and the beam only started to get larger and faster as it passed through each successive magical seal. At the last magical seal, the beam of the blood red energy shot out at impossible speeds before assaulting the vulnerable creature, crashing into the rotted flesh as it carved away like a knife through butter. Flint smiled under his mask, if he didn't know the weakness of an enemy, blasting it with one of his strongest spells always seemed to do the trick.