Click on the starter, in which your character is roleplaying. ( You're allowed to read the other ones. )

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The Queen's Servants opened the door to the barracks rather rudely. They easily ignored the confusion they caused to the soldiers, it was none of their concern. What was their concern was following their Queen's commands. They were told to bring her finest soldiers to her. The one these servants searched for was known as Drexel, or Blood Hunter if one knew him by reputation only. He was easy to spot. All one had to do was search for the one who had a chain and Katar Blade on his person. They found him cleaning his blades.

"Drexel of Blood." said one of the servants. "The Queen summons you. Come with us."

Drexel Put the cloth down and looked at the servants.

"What does the Queen want with me? I am but a low-ranking soldier."

"It matters not. The Queen has summoned you, so you must go to her. Or do you plan to defy the Prophet?"

Drexel stood up. He did not wish to disobey the one he trusts to overthrow the gods.

"I was only wondering aloud. I will go to her."

The servants turned to walk back, and Drexel followed. It was quite a way to the throne room where the Queen waited, so one servant decided to enlighten him a bit.

"We were ordered to bring the finest soldiers to her." said the servant. "Your achievements were notable, and your name is known to others in the army."

"I made a few traps and killed enemies. Any soldier can do that."

"But you spilled quite a bit of blood during your assignments. I heard that you returned from an assignment completely covered in it."

Drexel was silent. He didn't want to speak of irrelevant things. He only really obtained his reputation because he fought the way he knew best. By impairing his opponents. It just so happened that their bleeding weakened them enough for him to kill them. The "Hunter" part of his title came from his chasing. In his mind, if enemies were to escape, then any knowledge they had would make the next battle more difficult. It was logical. Although he didn't care much for his reputation, it never meant that he didn't relish the blood he spilled in every battle. He loved to smell the metallic scent before it soaks into the ground, and the taste of blood was nothing foreign to him. It was not bliss, but it was nice whenever he had the chance to appreciate that feeling of delight.

As they neared the chamber, the servants opened the door and bowed to their Queen. Drexel kneeled before her, and would not come up until she gives the command. The Queen, Bellatrix. The Prophet of Vahara who will take the place of the gods, and usher in the age of Mortals.

"Today is the day that Alastair Alden dies." thought Daniel Bróðir as he gathered the items he required for his first assassination. Earlier today he had received a strange letter written in an unknown language, he ignored it, instead focusing on his assignment. He needed poison first of all and a few throwing knives just in case something didn't go according to plan. The poison he chose can cause fatal cardiac arrests, Alastair had grown fat and greedy on the suffering of others, so his death would look like he had an 'unfortunate' heart attack. He had to get in and out without leaving a trace.

Daniel took a deep breath to calm himself as he placed his owl-like mask onto his face and sneaked outside atop the nearest roof and jumped to the next one towards Alastair's home, on his way there he noticed the sky was dark and cloudy. If it was going to rain soon it could be a hinderance to the plan.

Alastair's home was large and heavily guarded, Daniel watched them for a while, memorising their paths for when he leaves. He noticed an open window and waited for an opportunity to enter. He set foot through it, inside was a dark bathroom, Daniel assumed Alastair's quarters was on the other side of the door, he looked into the keyhole, the only thing he could see was a fat, Alastair-shaped figure in his bed fast asleep with his mouth agape. Daniel quietly opened the door and sneaked into the bedroom, closing the door again, took out the poison and dripped some of it into his open mouth. Suddenly there was a knock on Alastair's door...

Daniel hid under Alastair's bed as the servant knocked on the door once more, he held his breath, after a few seconds of waiting, the frantic sound of rattling keys came from beyond the door. The servant barged in and tried to wake up Alastair, which of course failed to rouse him since he was dead. The servant panicked and ran out of the room, shouting for the guards.

Daniel saw this as his only chance to escape and ran to the bedroom window, he noticed the guards were not outside, most likely scattered throughout Alastair's home. Daniel opened it jumped down from the window sill, landed safely with a roll and sprinted to his own home, with one hand ready to grab some throwing knives and the other on the hilt of his dagger in case he encountered any confrontation.

The servant knocked on the door and stepped it without further delay or waiting, he has come in an important matter for the queen. To gather the finest soldiers, she told him and so his duty was now to obtain the man called Vladimir Therion or commonly known as Vlad the butcher,

As soon as the servant entered the room he was surrounded by polished black marmor, shimmering so clean that one could see his own face in it, furthermore many thick woolish curtains would separate the room in many parts, creating a black labyrinth.

"Vladimir Therion! The queen is summoning her finest soldiers, you have proven yourself worthy enough to be called one of them, so make haste" The commanding voice of the servant echoed through the weird and disturbing room.

"The Queen wants to see me?" A crackling and hollow voice answered the servant.
"Wait~ Let me get a more formal dress first" The rattling of cloth and the sounds of steps were somewhere coming from within this dark labyrinth of a room and the servant sighed and looked around. The eyes could barely stay on one spot in this room, they just peeled off and only a dark wooden table would draw ones attention. On the table laid many glass-wares in all sizes and filled with most different things of all colors, also herbs, totems, bones, scrolls and books laid all gathered on that table.

The servant took some steps untill he reached the table and curiously looked and skimmed through the many different things untill he got hold of a small closed phiole, it was round and only a splint was sticking out of it, it seemed like it coudn´t be filled with anything but yet, two liquids were separated by a thin wall of glass cutting the inside of the phiole in half.

The servant pushed the splint and saw how a stick would then break the inner wall if one would increase the force of pushing the splint, he nearly pressed it complete through as suddenly the blade of a rapier came insight and stuck itself in the table, close to the hand of the servant which was holding the glass phiole.

The servant did not dare to move as then a death like breeze whispered to him "An interesting piece of glass-ware isn´t it~ Imagine what liquids might be mixed in this small phiole~"

A gloved hand closed around the hand of the servant and so also surrounding the phiole. "You may have heard of Vinegar, this is one of the two seperated liquids, the other is the extract of the king´s beetle. Each one is relatively harmless~ but mixed together ~ they create a highly venomous gas which can kill in seconds, one would need a mask to not breathe it in."

The servant gawked at the gloved hand and his widen eyes now looked at the source of the voice, a white crow like mask stared at him, the mask of a plague-doctor, the mask of Doctor Vladimir "The Butcher" Therion.
A sudden increase of pressure from the hands of the doctor would break the fragile phiole in the servant´s hand and with a high shroek he turned ash pale and stopped his breath as the doctor would then let go off his hand and turn around towards the exist of the room. With a calm, reasonable voice he continued to talk.

"But~ that was a prototype where both liquids are simple water~" He stopped for a short pause to let the servant realize what he said before beginning again.
"Yet~ if that would have been a real one, you would have been dead, killed by your curiosity" He waited at the door and made a gesture to the servant so that he should hurry and finally show the way towards the queen. Pale and quiet and no trace left of the commanding spirit he had before the servant showed him the way towards the queen´s chamber. The door was already open and it was not empty, the queen and the one they call Drexel of blood were already waiting.

Taking off his mask and so revealing his sickly pale face, Vladimir kneeled down infront of the queen.
"Your beauty is ever lasting oh great queen" Vladimir said in his gravely voice, his eyes facing the ground and waiting for the queen´s orders or more to arrive, what would come first.

11th of Vitama
Elisedd lay sleeping in his chambers in his manor even as the morning sun streamed bright through the window. The vast labyrinthian mansion had been passed down to his mother after his father's death, and after he had achieved knighthood he had claimed lordship over it. It was not more than a day's ride from the Night city. Suddenly, there was a rap at his door. Elisedd awoke and groaned in his drowsiness. "Permission to enter, lord?" called a servant from the other side of the door. "Yes, yes, come in" answered Elisedd in a strained voice, being rather irritated. The servant entered and bowed. Elisedd sat up in his bed and waited for his servant to speak. "I apologize for waking you so early my lord" said the servant. "Yes, well I'm awake now. This had better be important, I was having a rather good dream" said Elisedd. "Indeed it is. A messenger has come from the city with summons from her majesty the queen." answered the servant. Elisedd suddenly sat bolt upright in his bed. His eyes went wide, and a wide smile spread across his face. "Long has it been since i looked upon her fair face. Is the messenger here? I must speak with him." he asked eagerly, as he grabbed his bedrobe and threw it on. "Indeed, he is in the entrance hall. I could show you to him if you would like" offered the servant. "Please do, but first, let me dress into something more dignified." With that, Elisedd disappeared behind a his dressing wall.

Elisedd entered the entrance hall and found a well dressed man in a traveling cloak, with a scroll in his hand. The knight approached the messenger swiftly. Elisedd was wearing a long red cape, with a white tunic and a gold belt. The messenger bowed low as he entered. "Sir Elisedd, I bring a summons from her greatness Queen Bellatrix" said the messenger. A joy lit up in Elisedd's heart as his servant's words were confirmed. "So I have heard. What is the meaning of it?" he asked. The messenger unrolled the scroll in his hands and began to read aloud. "The queen of the Night Kingdom invites her finest soldiers to meet her in her hall this 12th of Vitama, for a special assignment." Elisedd's long smile returned. "So she thinks me her finest? Wondrous news! I will depart at once. We ride!" cried Elisedd. He bounded forward, grabbed his sword from a rack on the wall, and was out the door with the messenger close behind.

They rode all day and night, and it was early morning of the 12th when they reached the city. Elisedd went swiftly to the hall of the queen. He entered the throne room and found two other people kneeling before the queen. "My queen! O lady clear! Too long have i been thus far from your fairness!" he said as he kneeled before her.

*The sounds of music, laughter and people's conversations came to an abrupt silence as the Hand of the Queen, Kali, made her Appearance. After Kali had finished her words and sent her men right for the Conjurer's, screams fill the forest as a sudden terror befell on the Conjurer's. Some scurrying and disappearing into the forest with quick reflexes. Others paralyzed by their own fear, being struck down by Knights of the Queen without hesitation. Blood now filled the forest of fallen Conjurer's, the forest protectors who were at a confusion of what to do finally got their composure. Most of the protectors scattered, fighting knights that lead the charge.*

Michi, who finally processed the situation had rushed to protect the high-priestess, taking a defensive stance to any knights that should come his way for the high-priestess.

"Anyone who is not stricken by fear and can move, take the wounded and leave here! Others who can fight, join me, and protect your high-priestess with your lives!" Yelled Michi in a liberating tone, standing before the high-priestess.

Incarious sat against a tree outside of the normal celebration area with his food as he felt better getting an outside view of things. Right before he was about to get up to get more food, the queens men walked up to the feast. Knowing that there would be a slaughter, Incarious quickly ran to where he kept his bow and arrows. Before he could get there the slaughter had begun. Incarious then grabbed his bow and climbed a tree to get out of site and started shooting at the queens men. After killing a few of the soldiers, Incarious heard Michi's call to defend the High-priestess. He then jumped out of the tree and switched to one closer to the priestess to protect her with the rest of th conjurers.

Her dreams were plagued with crying. Katrina found herself in total darkness, not able to even see five feet in front of her. She was surrounded by the pained cries and wails of those she had slain in the name of Bellatrix. Katrina wanted to yell, wanted to scream for it to stop, but she knew it would do no good. Although she was not paralyzed, Katrina could not take a single step forward. Her attempts to cover her ears proved fruitless as the noise blared in her head, as permeating as ever. Eventually, Katrina slouched over and waited to be awakened.

Katrina was familiar with this dream, or rather, nightmare, so much so that she was able to distinguish it from reality. She was thankful when three sharp knock interrupted it. She stood in the darkness, smiling slightly, and watched as it dissipated into her bed. Her room. Vahara. She let out a sigh of relief and sat up, but made no effort to answer the knocking. She yearned for more sleep, but knew that there was no one who would show up at her home unless it was related to her duties. "The queen summons you, Red Blade." Confirmed the one who had been knocking. Katrina was not surprised, she had been frequently called for in the past. Katrina's smiled blossomed, even as her head slowly shook from side to side. "Quickly now. Before she has both our heads on pikes." Katrina could hear a tone of contempt in his voice, as was common when some spoke of their queen. The man was likely not to be a true believer of Bellatrix's supposed title of prophet.

Katrina waited a few seconds before responding "Yes... yes of course. Give me a few moments to dress." The voice complied while Katrina rose out of bed, trading her night gown for a white tunic, long brown loose-fitting pants, and her armor over that. Katrina gripped Red and sheathed it in the harness on her back. She combed her hair slightly, enough to make herself presentable, before exiting her home. Before her was a young man with no notable characteristics, as most of the queens grunts lacked. She said nothing as she passed him, heading towards the castle.

"Wait!" The soldier shouted. Katrina made no effort to stop, or even slow down, forcing the man to jog in order to catch up with her. The both moved in silence through city, Katrina paying no mind to the chatter around her, common folk making conversation or bargaining for goods. As they got closer and closer to the queens castle, less and less people were outside. The fear for Bellatrix was visible, the very streets themselves tense and unbroken. Katrina moved with a certain grace about her, and one could be mistaken for noticing the way she pressed down on her teeth. Though she would not admit it, she feared the queen as much as any one else. She is the prophet. She is our queen. Katrina repeated in her head. Most days that was enough to get her through the day, and hopefully today would be like no other. The two climbed the castle steps up to Bellatrix's throne room. The grey of the castle did not suit her majesty, but then again, not much could suit a woman dubbed as 'The Mad Queen.'

Katrina entered the throne room alone, and noticed that two others have already arrived. One was easily identifiable as The Butcher, by the large mask in his hand as he knelt before the queen. The other Katrina had to strain a bit to recognize as the Blood Hunter. She had never seen him before, and could only tell based of the unusual weapon he wielded and the stories she had heard. She bowed before the queen, before kneeling herself. Katrina did her best not to look at Bellatrix as she did, and glued her eyes to the red carpet below her. Now all that was left to do was await her orders.

All day, she had trained. All day, she had takrn care of her sword and shield. She could not slack in her training. Her skill must be kept and improved upon. The warrior woman had told her to do so. Lest they fail her in her time of need. With that in mind, she would train whenever she had the chance.

She did her training within her home. A small, but well hidden shack on the outskirts of a city. Her mask and cloak lay on a table, waitingfor her to put them on to leave. She needed to wear them, otherwise the god of misfortune would show his wrath. That is the last thing she needed.

Next to her cloak and mask was a letter. One that she could not read. It was in some sort of strange writing, and she had never seen anything like it before. It bothered her, even during her training. Valentina stopped. It was something that she found undesireable, but she her curiosity took the better of her. She decided to ask other members of the brotherhood if they knew anything aboit this.

Valentina put on her cloak amd mask, hid her sword and shield beneath the cloak, and opened the door. After sighing, she opened the door, and ran through the shadows.

A mass of humanity, flanked by cracked boxes, piles of decomposing foodstuffs and a discarded, unhinged door wrapped in cloth sat patiently on top of an empty cask within one of the many alleys and back streets of the Mad Kingdom's slums, unsavory and often dangerous places often used by the shadier members of society to conduct their business. Even from a distance it would've been hard to mistake the man sitting there for a beggar, much too large and well nourished to require charity from others. One could be forgiven for mistaking the figure as a common robber, covered as he was by a dark, worn down hooded garment and armed with a large mace held in his right hand, but a slightly closer inspection would reveal the white glint of the plate armor under the surcoat and a face-enclosing helmet under the hood, and to see a back alley crook suited up in full plate would've been exceedingly rare. The man, then, was something else.

The man in question was a knight. Or had he been a knight, and was now nothing but a murderer? Perhaps he was actually part of something greater, a member of the mysterious organization known as The Brotherhood, identified as such by the discreet markings on the heavy helm which doubled as his mask. Whatever the case, the man wasn't really sure about it himself, his name was Cyrus Reinhardt and he sat in the alley under the pouring rain and the booming thunder because it was a fixed point from where those who knew where to look could access one of the Brotherhood's secret safehouses, designated as a meeting point should pressing issues arise and currently occupied by one Daniel Bróðir, who was seemingly out on his first assignment.

Cyrus' pressing issue was a strange letter he had received, written in a language he could not quite place and delivered in an oddly familiar paper, and so he waited for the current inhabitant of the safehouse to return from his "job". Cyrus was not one for sneaking into places and breaking down the door would've been rather alarming for its occupant and quite rude from his part. Finally his patience was rewarded as a cloaked figure wearing a distinctive owl-like mask dashed into the alley and was quickly joined by another wearing a plain white mask accessing from a different direction. Trying to look non-threatening, Cyrus had discovered a while back, was a futile effort for one his size and so he simply lifted his left arm in a greeting gesture, hoping neither of the two assasins would try to attack him before recognizing him.

"Brother Owl, Sister Wanderer. I've something I'd like to discuss. Inside if it's not a problem".

Merek sat near the middle of a long wooden table, topped with a plentiful amount of various foods, wines and confectionaries. He was currently eating a small piece of chicken and drinking a glass of water. He didn't really like wine, it was tolerated in the monastery and even used in some religious gatherings, but he just didn't like the taste. He was happily listening to a healers tales of travelling when he heard the shouts. His smile quickly turned to a frown, he had expected the queen would do something about the gathering he just didn't think it would be so soon. He turned back to the healer before telling her to
"Be safe, please run and tend to the wounded" He bowed as was custom in the monastery before sprinting to, Michi. He had met, Michi in the past, they had quite the debate about whether or not, Omnia was the only true god or all should be worshipped. In the end they decided to end the argument after agreeing that they couldn't change each other's opinions without actually asking the gods themselves.

Merek slid his arms and legs into his regular fighting position. He stood side on, with his left arm stuck out the furthest, with his right close to his chest. He waited until a guard got close before moving to the side and grabbing him by the foot. He tore him from his horse and to the ground before giving him a quick kick to the head to render him unconscious. Merek then conjured up a long, spear-like weapon and tossed it at a soldier, it impaled him through the chest before disappearing into the ether.
"We need to get the High Priestess out to safety" Called Merek.

-

Yui smiled as she stood on the rooftop staring up at the moon. Tonight was a good night, the brotherhood was meeting which meant she might get to slash someone open. Looking across the line of rooftops she started to walk slowly before suddenly breaking into a run, she pushed off the roof just as she reached the edge soaring through the air time seemed to stop until she gracefully landed on the next roof and sprinted across that one at full speed. Again and again she jumped from roof to roof, all the while rolling, flipping, and sprinting.

If someone witnessed the process they would not only find it absurd and suspicious but a complete waste of effort, to Yui though it was a game of thrill, and she didn’t care if anyone noticed. In fact, she hoped someone would notice, then she might get to experience the thrill of the fight again. Yui lived for thrills, be it the thrill of fighting, or the thrill of falling to her death any moment, she loved all of them. Reaching her destination she dropped down from the roof behind the other two brotherhood members, the owl and the wanderer if she remembered correctly who were facing The Bulwark.

“What’d I miss?” She asked.

Drexel kept his head down. He had been the first there. It was most likely because the barracks were close to the castle. He heard the Queen scream in anger. Her two guards marched past him and held one of the servants who had escorted him in place. The Queen herself walked past him, but he refused to look up. She had not addressed him, so he did not get up from his kneeling position.

At this time, Drexel had heard others enter the room. They were most likely the other "finest soldiers" she had summoned. He recognized none of their voices, but it seemed that two of them could not contain their compliments to the Queen. Even when she was clearly angered. It wouldn't matter anyway, they could barely be heard over the sound of the servant's screams.

When the Servants were taken away, the Queen finally addressed Drexel and the other soldiers she had summoned. Drexel stood to face her, and recognized who the others were. The man with the pale face and the beaked mask was easily recognised as the butcher. Drexel had heard that he had committed 30 murders, but was given a powerful position because the victims were plotting against the Queen. The other one was a high-ranking knight. The Red Blade. She is easily known as one of the Queen's most loyal knights, following her orders without hesitation nor sign of regret.

Drexel was in the presence of the elite. How honored he should have been. Honor is not what he felt. He cared not about their achievements, for they mean nothing if they're struck down. Everyone in the room were mortals. Everyone in the room can die. It just so happened that a certain mortal in the room was one that each of them would refuse to be killed or let die.

The Queen had apologized about her earlier outburst and explained what she was planning to do about tge servants' trials. Drexel's eye twitched after she mentioned the trial by gods.

Why bother with that? They wouldn't care in the slightest. thought Drexel.

He put the thought away, for the queen revealed the reason she summoned them. A shield, a blade, and a rusty blade were shown. Each of them were to choose one, starting with Drexel. He stepped up and took a look at the blades. One blade was certainly sharp enough for lacerations, which would fit his way of fighting, but he could do the same with the blades at the end of his chain, and the katar blade on his arm. The other blade was rusty, and looked as if it would break easily. It is the kind of weapon that he would have used without hesitation back when he was a child, but not now. He picked up one of the shields, and returned to where he stood before.

The discarded door, as it turned out, had been Cyrus' greatshield all along. Once his pride and joy now covered with filthy rags to avoid recognition of a symbol held in such high esteem by those he had once served with or under and who he now plotted against, seeking to pay atrocities back in kind. Pushing aside those thoughts took him more effort than what he put into lifting his massive shield, by now almost as much of a part of him as wearing heavy armor was, as he entered the Brotherhood's sanctum via the now unlocked gate and followed by the two he had greeted and a third who'd arrived shortly after and all of whom he promptly ignored for the moment as he began to sift through the large collection of books in the hideout, many of them ancient and pertaining to the mythical, the esoteric and the forbidden.

His education, perhaps the most difficult part of his rise to knighthood, bore fruit after only a few minutes of silent, almost frantic searching. Gently placing both the book and the letter he had received down on a well lit table, he pointed them out to his...comrades. "This is what I wanted to discuss, a letter I could not quite read" he said, pointing at it "and this, the meaning" he followed, pointing at the helpfully diagrammed tome on old draconic lore and symbolism. "Freedom has a way of destruction, it says, or so I believe going by this book. I am not one for riddles, and do not have a clue as to what it could mean. The paper, however, I recognize now. It had been many years since I last saw it, but it's definitely from a smaller village in the Kingdom".

He had known the village back then because he had known Elisedd, if only in passing. A very young kid, perhaps not the most likeable but certainly better than many of the other nobles he had known. Cyrus had pitied the boy after his assignment under Raggemand of Highmount, a decidedly nasty person with a bad habit of breaking those he could not mold to his views, though last he'd heard the boy was now a man serving directly under the Queen. "It is the village that surrounds the mansion of Elisedd the Young" he was certain he did not have to explain the significance of that name to his associates. "I believe a trip there is in order, but I have no authority over this matter. So, The Owl, The Wanderer, The Smiling Death, my proposal is simple".

"I vote that The Owl and The Wanderer head to the village while The Smiling Death and I remain here to fulfill our duties. You two will have a higher chance of going by unnoticed compared to a giant man with a tower shield and a woman with an ornate scythe". It wasn't the most practical way of solving things, but casting votes on matters such as these was a common occurrence for Brotherhood gatherings and perhaps one of the reasons why the assassins usually preferred to work alone.

Having met The Bulwark, Smiling Death and The Wanderer, Daniel followed them into the Brotherhood safe house.

Inside Bulwark began to search through multiple books which appeared to be arcane in nature, then placed one of them and the bewildering letter on a table. He then explained the meaning of the letter which was "Freedom has a way of destruction." Bulwark proposed two of them would search a village surrounded by a mansion which belonged to a nobleman named Elisedd the Young, he suggested Daniel and another known as Wanderer to go while the others remained behind.

Daniel widened his eyes in surprise under his mask at both the message and the fact he was chosen since he was as green as they come, not that he would say no to the honour of course. "What would we be doing in this village, are we seeking out a certain individual, an object for which to help us?" he asked The Bulwark.

Vladimir smiled as he saw what the queen did to the semi-beautiful servant. His head was still tilted slightly but with a faintly smile on it he watched the whole show with green glittering eyes, a clear sign of joy.
She was right and she had all right to threaten that girl, defying someone in intellect, in strength or beauty was a sign of rebellion and even if Vladimir´s opinion was that the queen was still more beautiful than this blonde silly bimbo of a servant. For him, there could not be a more graceful, more beautiful person than the queen, than the person he loved.

As the queen raised her voice Vladimir was dragged out of his thoughts only then to recognize the two further "companions" know keeling aside of him. The only one he recognized was Eliseed, he was a high ranked knight and a great reminder of a failure in Valdimir´s eyes. He was promoted since he defeated assasins who were sulking after the queen´s life and when Vlad would have stayed moments longer and wouldn´t had decided to hunt some of those low beings plotting against the queen he might have had the chance to be that person who would have protected her. The moment he would have slew they all, he would have proposed to her and she would have smiled and agreed and... Well infact is was a good working plan of the brotherhood where they sended him across the town to weaken the queen´s fronts and only because he, Vlad the butcher. was as dumb to fall for it....the queen got attacked.

His mind drifted to the only female part in this group of four kneeling before the queen, he thought long and hard to remember who she might be, somehow...and then suddenly the coin flipped! He knew who she was~ The red hilt! The red hilt of her sword who gained her a title truly fitting. She was Katarina "the red sword". He nearly laughed as he saw her. He would have imagined her being plumb and fat and bulky like those female knights usually are but she~ well she sure had a hidden beauty below that peasant like face.

Vladimir stood up, his tall figure disturbingly making no noise, not even the rattling of clothe was to hear as one could now fully see the ghostly, black dressed figure with the sickly white face. Like a deadman, a walking dead his eyes wandered towards the showcase. It was his turn since Drexel returned to his place now.
This here was not a simple picking or a simple regard to thank one, Vladimir knew that and so the choose between sword or shield would most likely be the "stick drawing" only in a more thrilling matter. The shield was to protect but also was a sign to wait once time, the sword was quick to act and a symbol for murder, war and fight. Both symbols thrilled Vladimir but as his big steps took him towards the showcase, he already made up his mind.

Vladimir picked a sword, bowed before the queen and returned to his designed place. Better attacking some far off brotherhood members than staying on the side of this more than simple minded soldier called Drexel of the blood. Vladimir saw what he did and what he did was nothing more than simple slaughter, there was no grace in his fight and bathing in one´s blood is more savage than anything else. Vladimir could not promise for his "health" if he wanted to, so it was better for the soldier´s sake~

This spot is for an absent post by swampogreknight.

*his sixth sense alerted him as he just knew the worst was about to happen. Michi, quickly turning as he got on all fours without hesitation, pressed his feet from the ground, moving at a tremendous speed. A closer inspection from behind you could see purple pillars that fit the bottom of his feet and hands coming from out of the ground, making him lighter on his feet. He was only focused on Kali who he could now see perfectly, his eyes narrowing, he leaped from the ground, his arms outstretched at her as he knocked the tomahawk out of her hand. As he passed her, a purple spike came out from his side, about to make contact with her face as she reacted to it, bending backwards enough to dodge it. Michi landed on the ground as he rolled, turning in the process, facing back at her still on his fours.*

"If you thought I was going to let you just do as you please you were sadly mistaken.." Michi said in a much lower tone, his eyes still narrowed.

He charged at kali again as she moved towards him.

Kali picked up the tomahawk as she started a circular motion at Michi's direction.

Michi would then leap at her again, one arm pulled back as a purple spike started coming out of his palm.

She'd finish the motion, the tomahawk about to make contact with him.

Michi would extend his hand blocking and parrying the tomahawk outwards as he'd move his other hand towards her, another spike going right for her chest. The force being much weaker since he was stopped mid jump. He'd make contact with her armor, pushing her back but hardly even leaving a dent.