Arrival ((Open/))

[Man of Many Murders]

A man in a red jacket with black jean like pants stands in a long vancant hallway. He seems mysterious and looks as if he dosen't even belong. On his chest is a black tatto that sticks out, thanks to the fact that he wears absoultly no shirt under the jacket. His wavy blonde hair covers his eyes and adds to his misterious apperence. His face shows absolutly no emotion, but yet could send a chill up anyone's spine. As he walks down the hallway his movement has a sort of slyness to it. He looks straight ahead and gives no implication that he is looking for anyone or anything. He tries his best to fit in with a crowd that is not there.

He stoops at a window and appears out. He gazes at the grounds before him. It reavles that he is a couple stories in the air. As he stares down he rises his hand into the air to reavel the claw gloves. There are three sharp baldes on each glove. He places his hands to his sides as he exits the window to return to his journey across the hall.

He follows the hall around the bend as he comes to a door. He places his hands into his pockets and pulls out a brown key. He puts the key into the key hold below the door nob, but finds that it dosen't fit. He lets out a sigh as he realzes he had the wrong door. He backs away a few steps and begins again to follow the hallway.

The man stops as something allerts him. He looks to the right to see some punks throwing fists and shouting intolerable language at one another. He decides not to get involved as he walks right pass the two knocking one of them over with his sholder as he passes. "Hey you." The punk yells at the man as he gets off the floor. "Come here and do that again." The man, still having his hands to his sides turns around and begins to walk over to the punk. "Thats right newbie... Were going to kick your ass!!!"

[Syril Ænari]

Syril whistled merrily to himself as he made his way up the stairs, taking them two at a time despite the paint cans, rollers and other apparatus tucked under both arms. He had been at the Academy for a little while, a couple days now, and mostly figured out the school layout and and schedule, but one thing he hadn't found the time to do was completely unpack his belongings. Now however, it was the weekend, and Syril was eager to get back to refurnishing his new dormitory; hence the trip to the local hardware store. It was always excellent to have a little place one could call one's own, and Syril had had no trouble exchanging Swedish kronor for Babylos currency.

Reaching the top of the stairs and discovering once again that his hands were full, Syril allowed himself the use of a little magic, activating the Valdi just long enough to unbalance the air pressure on either side of the handle, turning it and giving the door a slight push before stopping the flow of mana. Now entering the hallway, accompanied by the clanging of paint cans, Syril found himself in the middle of a dramatic scene between three students.

The situation didn't really matter to him much, nor did the air of "coolness" The smallest of the three was attempting to put on. Normally, Syril would have walked right on past, flashing the group a friendly smile before disappearing into his dorm. However, this time he did stop--for one reason, and one reason alone. Setting down his armful of interior decorations, Syril turned back to the three, Smiling up at them with arms akimbo in an admonishing sort of fashion.

"Why hello there. You seem to have forgotten that fighting outside of the training grounds is expressly prohibited."

It was true; the Academy rules forbid any sort of combat upon school grounds, on pain of suspension and/or grueling menial labor. Perhaps the students before him really had forgotten, but it seemed far more likely that the three of them were expressly defying that rule. And as much as he loved a good fight, Syril had a special respect for structure and order, and order could not be upheld without regulation. As such, Syril was quite willing to put a stop to this engagement before it began.

[Man of Many Murders]

Dark had turned around as the other two appeared to want to fight. Of course he had no attention to. He might of known nothing about the school or it's rules, but he did not want to fight these students. He did not like unessicary beatings. He had chosen to leave that life behind when he came to this school. The students stopped sudenly when they noticed the other man pass by. They continued to stare as he passed by without saying a word. "Lets get him." The one on the right said to his friend, as the man who had just passed by turned around and said somthing about a rule that Dark did not happen to hear.

The two punks let out a laugh as they heard what the man had to say. "Shut up... No one really cares what you think." They laughed togther as they smiled and turned their attention back to Dark. "Well look at those claws. Are we a cat mr. newbie?" The one on the right said making fun of Dark. "We have some nice cat nip for you." They each let out a laugh, but Dark did not pay any attention to them. He had been called many things before, but a cat was far the stupidist. He continued to stare at the two punks.

"You know what I do remember seing you before. You were down talking to one of the teachers. Yes thats it I remember you talking about leting your sister stay in the building. She was the one siting on the bench right?" The one who spoke before added as Dark's expression changed very fast. "Yes I remember you talking about what you sister wasss..." He said continuing with puting an emphisis on the was. His other body then said, "Oh ya... The whore we fucked on our way over here." He said with a smile.

The smile was whiped clean off his face as Dark slamed his fist into the mans nose. He delibertily went on an angle making sure he did not use his claws to do any murdering damage. The other punk came to his friends aide as he ran full speed at Dark.

[Raiden Matsutani]

Another silent day for the demon again. As usual Raiden walked the halls in silence. Never replied to anyone or even took his eyes off the ground. His eyes was always fixated on the floor. You could say this was one way of escaping the thoughts of others. Little by little Raiden's usual eyes got better at picking up what people felt, but this was simply reading people's facial expression which is something Raiden is abnormally good at aside from all his other enhanced senses.

Raiden had a slight smile on his face though. Simply because even though he didn't know very many people at this school, he felt he had gain some friends. He still smiles on the fact of Keiko being his first friend and is still gratefull to her. Raiden stuck in his happy thoughts soon whisped them away as he heard an commotion going on way down the hallway ahead of him. Raiden's sensitive ears twitched as they picked up the distinct conversations of some thugs.

Raiden in a few simple steps was in range to see two punks ganging up on one guy. The thing that was wrong with this picture was simply that these guys were trying to pick a fight in the academy which is a bad idea if you want to get into a lot of trouble. That is when a cool and calm voice of reason came along and notified the three of the rule. Raiden let out a simple sigh of relief. If the guy had come along, Raiden would probably had to try his hand at calming them down. But Raiden is really a peace maker...nor a person who really wants to stand out either. He rather be the person who stands by doing his best to be unnoticed.

Well, that's going to change when Raiden's sense of justice is going to get the better of him. Raiden saw that one of the street punks was going to hit the guy defending himself. Without a seconds notice the speed demon was gone from his spot and ended up in an instant infront of the punk catching his fist. Raiden's facial expression was normal for the most part. Raiden's eyes though were fixated on the ground still so that the bangs cover his glowing red eyes. "......" he was still silent.

[Man of Many Murders]

Dark was suprised as the demon stoped the second punk from punching him. The other punk got off of the ground and ran away from the sight of the demon. Dark had no intention on what he knew happened to the punk he punched. He had broked his nose. Dark watched as the other punk slipped out of the demons grip and ran off with his friend. Dark then was about to run after the two, but decided against it. Later they would pay for what they said. It wasn't easy for Dark. His life prior to comiong to the school was full with turmoil and sadness. As a child he was malested by his father phsycally not sexually, while for his sister was the exact opposite. He remembered how he dragged her to his room every night and had relations with her. He remembered how his twin sister would cry on his sholder every night. Dark did not show any signs of sadness as he let his bangs cover his eyes. He remembered just how he felt when he stabbed his father thirty one times in the heart. He remembered the tears in his eyes, as he remembered that night. How it had started.

[Syril Ænari]

EDIT: Aww, crap. I left the window open while I went to eat dinner, so I didn't see the previous post. Erm... could we just forget that the punks ran away? This would be so much more fun...


The two larger ones were clearly rather--lacking--in the intelligence department, as displayed by their unfounded cockiness and blatant disregard for higher powers; powers greater than their own. But such fools as these were not the type to comprehend any sort of message unless it was shoved in their faces. Syril had not flinched when the one shouted at him; the words of blowhards were nothing to be feared. But just as he was coming up with a way to restrain them without causing damage, the two of them unexpectedly left off to continue harassing the third, even going so far as to mention sexual intercourse with the boy's sister.

It was obviously a bluff, and a poorly preformed one too; the chances of these two goons raping a screaming girl and getting away with it without alerting the teachers, either directly or via some student, were less than zero. But the smaller student took the bait nonetheless, and lashed out in anger, striking the bully in the face. Furthermore, As the second of the aggressors charged in for a strike, another student seemingly appeared out of nowhere to join the growing fray, blocking the blow. Now this wouldn't do at all.

Syril didn't care which of the combatants thought they were in the right, which thought they were defending their pride, which thought they were being honorable. None of that mattered. All that Syril cared was that the four of them were breaking the rules, and now that Syril had politely informed them, they must all be disobeying them outright. And that would not stand, not when Syril could do the school that was kind enough to let him through their doors a favor and put an end to it. Not that he was angry; oh no, Syril was never angry. Rather, he was happy to be doing the school a favor.

The training grounds were conveniently located beside the building which housed the dormitories, and with a quick cast of his eyes, Syril noticed the large, even more convenient window located a few paces down the hallway. The cynical smile which had been hovering about his lips since he had stumbled upon the interaction was abruptly replaced by a wide grin; Syril doubted that any of the combatants had noticed. But for the sake of fair warning, he spoke out brightly before taking any action.

"Fine then. Since you seem so bent on fighting..."

Syril took a deep breath, crossing both arms in front of his chest, hands level with his shoulders and middle and index fingers extended. Emerald mana crackled into life at the tips of those fingers, and with twin streaks of green, Syril dropped to one knee as his hands slashed downward and came to bear at angles away from his body, abruptly dissipating the concentrated mana into the surrounding air. The Valdi--Syril's field of influence--was now in place. Straightening up, Syril extended his left hand toward the window, glowing with a faint green luminescence, visible evidence of mana exuding from his body into the surrounding air.

"I will be transporting you somewhere more suitable."

The hand clenched, and the ears of everyone in the hallway popped as the air directly outside of that window suddenly vacated its position. With a roar, the air from the hallway rushed to fill the empty vacuum, taking the four hapless miscreants with it. This was Ira Hindi: the fourth art, air push. They would then fall two stories to the training grounds below, a manageable distance for most any Academy student. Syril had not moved, however; it was a simple matter of holding the air around his person in place while the vacuum equalized. With a contented smile, Syril skipped over to the window and gazed over the edge, eager to see the results of his work.

Valdi: -1
Mana remaining: 24

OOC: Would one of you be so kind to continue this thread in the training grounds? Or if you like, I can re-post this post, and we can continue from ther