The Elusive Cinder

Emerald. There had been a number of minor incidents brewing, and as they began to peak Emerald merely watch. Certainly, it was her day job to mediate disputes and the like: her unquestionable talent... but watching them gave her a better idea of the psyche of some of the other guests. An old technique - sitting on the sidelines and simply observing, watching actions and reactions to store information for a later time. It was all very interesting, to say the least. There was useful informatio hidden away within their little displays. As talk turned back to professions and talents in a more civilised vein, she decided to weigh in again. @FirstPonySpectre "Indeed, you must be quite the useful friend to have around! Perhaps one day you might teach my niece the difference between an elixir and an explosion? She seems to be unaware at the moment..." The mare let out a small laugh at her own joke. "Though I don't know how you can possibly handle the pressure of these 'emergancies' you speak of - I'm afraid it would all be too much for myself, that much responsibility." She smiled kindly - what was this one's name again... Bittersweet? They hadn't spoken yet, not directly. Regardless, it wouldnt hurt to know her a little better. Eavesdropping was ultimately a poor substitute for actually speaking some someone. "Out of curiosity, do you happen to carry much in the way of medicines with you, dear?"

Vincent. There was a pause - a rather stunned one at that - before Vincent spoke. It was surprise more than anything that had smacked away his words, and for a moment he had found himself frustratingly unable to speak as his mind raced: there were thousands of questions to ask, but which first? Then logic kicked in. Brunhilde had only been on the line for a handful of minutes, and hadn't probed for further information. That limited her to only having answers that had been offered willingly and knowingly. The first question was immediately clear however. "How? What happened?" He asked, his voice calm but strained, as if tension was building behind it. He had never been particually close to his father, but a sudden death would trouble anyone - even a person of such high calibre as he. Unfortunatly, there was more than just family ties that this concerned... Right now however, he needed to concern himself with the implications of this news: one didn't practice perfection by breaking down and neglecting what needed to be done. He set down the teacup - still mostly full. "What is the official cause of death? I need a copy of the autopsy report in my hands, as soon as possible. Where was he, incidentally? I would rather see the body myself, rather than simply trust a second hand report from the coroner."

Vincent. "Not so much bored as... anxious. Thing always move too slowly - it's so tedious to wait!" Taking one of the cups, Vincent paused to sip it quietly. His face was thoughtful and brooding - thoughts weaving through his mind as each branched into a dozen more. Yes, living as he was instructed was tedious to the point of desperation... but it had bought him the time and funds to begin planning his imminent future. He was almost there - almost prepared to step forward out of the shadow of his imperfect parent and bring his legacy upon the world. "Father doesn't realise my potential... I refuse to simply become an extension of his ego - my legacy will be mine alone." He shook his head, warmth of the cup contrasting sharply with the coldness of his hands. "Until I sever contact with the man, he will rule over me one way or another. If all goes well however, I might just have the capital to begin anew with my own venture. I have grand plans, Brunhilde. Very grand - the like which father cannot even begin to dream of. I just need a little more time."

Etmas. "Time to roll." The gambler grunted under his breath. "If anyone wants to point us in the right direction, that would be great." With a half-shrug, the rifle fell from his shoulder and into his awaiting hand - rising to his eye in a moment. Plants, how the hell was he supposed to kill plants? They didn't even have a discernable anatomy! Playing the odds safe, he sighted down the first and loosed a shot directly towards the closest thing it had to a 'center of mass' - the center of its leaves. "Anyone knows how you kill a plant with a freaking bullet, I'd kinda like to know that as well."

Emerald Gaze. @Scribblegroove "Well, it varies dear. True, I am often in a position to be granted certain luxuries. It's not all glamour however - at the end of the day I am a humble servant to our rulers and our land - which can mean on occasion that I must suffer the... distaste, of those who do not appreciate it. She shrugged slightly. "I don't mean to complain however: such occurrences are few and far between. Strangely, would you believe that those who hold animosity are often the most accomodating? It's true." The words rang in her own mind - she flicked an ear and blinked. Nothing - it was nothing. @Midnight Scribbler "Indeed? They sound exquisite... and most interesting for one in my situation." Emerald tittered slightly to herself, shaking her head. "Though, perhaps we can discuss such things in a quieter setting at some point after we arrive?" Her intrest was genuine and twofold: if Sunset could bind spells to candles, they might prove useful in solving a couple of problens that she often suffered with... not to mention possibly quite enjoyable. On a less immediate note however, the mare desired a better knowledge of Sunset herself - which would be far easier to judge without simply asking. All the while, Emerald was listening. Listening was a gift - discerning information from among the clutter, having the focus to maintain a front with those whom one spoke with without them noticing... and simultaneously analysing the discussions of those around her. One such was - so far as she could tell - the last of the guests. Dove... well mannered enough, but perhaps too much so. There wasn't the ditzy air about her like Cherry had, not the seeming shyness of Sunset - so what was her angle? Regardless, it could wait.

Emerald Gaze. Pausing to look quizzically at the note, Emerald continued without flinching at the less-than-usual circumstances. She could hardly be called a diplomat without a tact for diplomacy, after all. "A pleasure, dear." She noted, nodding slowly in acknowledgement of the message as she continued in her warm manner: each word carefully chosen and articulated. "I'm from the capital myself, naturally... though I travel quite often." She looked back towards the colt that had answered. "Ah, yes. Quiet place, though I believe it's minor celebrity status has made it busier in recent years? I have family there - a niece. Unusual girl... quite the genius and polite as you like, but a little unorthodox."

Emerald Gaze. "Emerald Gaze - royal diplomat and representative in foreign affairs." Emerald introduced herself smoothly: eyes catching the details of the torrent of events around her as she made a mental note to avoid staying near to the sickly-looking colt, and to be prepared with a barrier whenever he opened his mouth. Thankfully, that wasnt much of a stretch for Emerald, who fully expected the worst at any given moment. Whether that 'worst' was an envoy taking offence and growing aggressive, or a stray bubble of mucus that drew too near. "Ahem..." She recovered from her slight pause with another wide, inviting smile - tinted with a trace of entertained laughter. Certainly, some of these seemed quite delightful at first glance. "... yes, this should be quite the enjoyable trip. I hope that it proves to be so for you all as well." She blinked slowly - piercing eyes peering out like... well, Emeralds, from behind her dark coat as she appraised each guest in turn. The sickly one was, well, just that really. Scribblegroove - there wasn't much she could say: perhaps he was having a bad day, or perhaps he was simply the type who was generally a little... grotty. Their was an air of refinement - though whether it was forced or simply strained due to illness, she had no idea. Yet. Cherry - the red mare - certainly demanded attention. She seemed quite like Emeralds youngest niece: Bubble. If that was the case, then she should prove quite tolerable. A little stronger willed perhaps, but hopefully a little less hopelessly naive. Not a terrible sort to be around at all, in suitably sized doses. Sunset - the mare who had been reading as she had arrived... Was that a hint of a waver in her voice, or was she simply soft of speech? Odd that she seemed shy somehow yet still made the effort to converse - that spoke volumes alone, and interested the diplomat greatly. Aero didn't really catch Emeralds attention so much as his companion. Another dark mare - a calculating look behind her eyes that was all too familliar. Emeralds Gaze lingered for a fraction of a moment too long as she thought to herself. Nothing to be concerned of - they were all in the same boat here... or carriage, as the case may be. As for the others who hadn't given names... well, time would tell. No need to spread her attention too thin - this was a chance to make introductions and small talk. This trip might have 'businessin disguise' written all over it, but Emerald was quite willing to enjoy it however she could. "So! Where is everyone you from?" She asked - a standard icebreaker... not that Cherry hadn't done enough to break several glaciers with her introduction. "I'm picking up on a few different accents here, might I venture?"

Emerald Gaze As if there had been no dark threat or insidious attitude attached to the letter, Emerald was prompt to arrive. Truly, she couldn't have refused even had she been given the choice: her standing at the castle meant that she had no choice but to attend, or risk her position as diplomat. You know that wouldn't happen. You're just too interested in other ponies business to stay away. A voice chided coolly inside her head. Well... that, and you didn't trust Blueblood not to at least try to follow through with his foolish 'threats'. She continued her approach, smiling gently and leaving no hint as to her silent thoughts as the carriage came into view. "Oh, well isn't this nice?" She stated aloud in a bright tone - blinking and dismissing to internal monologue. ... A minute or two later, she had arrived. Shoes pristine and jewelry sparkling in the days sun. Prepared as she was after following these type of procedures hundreds of times and in several different kingdoms, she presented her invitation to the coachmaster alongside a couple of bits and a warm smile. Setting down the case which she had brought, it opened to reveal a velvety, black lined interior, filled mostly with paperwork. From this, she drew her identification papers, before presenting those as well. Perhaps it was unnecessary, but one such as her had to make every conscious effort to maintain a professional attitude. It simply wouldn't do to be the one to get things wrong! Once satisfied that there was nothing more to do, Emerald paused before climbing aboard. It seemed that she wasn't the first to arrive: that was good. The two already here didn't seem acquainted, so she must have arrived herself just moments after the last. "Good day." She greeted the pair brightly, taking a seat with that same warm smile still fixed firmly on her face. "It's quite pleasant today, isn't it?"

Vincent. Vincent rolled his eyes off into the distance, safe in the knowledge that the woman - bright as she might be - couldn't see his facial expressions though the back of his head. At least not literally at any rate: she did a pretty good job at speculating of most occasions... but whatever she guessed would be such whether he did so or not. "I am not a child, I do not need you to scold me every time I leave, regardless of what father might says." He stated, his words cool and collected, if a little haughty as he turned in place. Manners dictated that is was terribly impolite to speak to somebody - a lady especially - with ones back turned after all. "Furthermore, how am I supposed to achieve anything if I turn tail and hide at every sight of poor weather? It's quite absurd!" Despite his complaints, he tugged at a slight crease on his left cuff - white against a black doublet - and smirked a little. She was only concerned for his health he supposed, and even if it was merely because she was paid to be, it was hard to be resentful of good intentions. Shrugging theatrically, he began to stride steadily back in the direction so as to keep his voice down. "Really, I was only planning to be gone a short while: though now I'm tempted to throw myself into the sea, just to see if you fret!" Such was the attitude of Vincent Lancer: he strived for perfection in all things and had achieved a good number already in his less-than-humble opinion. At his age, his accomplishments were... extraordinary, to say the least. The problem lay not in arrogance or maliciousness, rather in the fact that he knew this, and he was proud. Very proud. As for his opinion of Ms. Augustin... Well, she was likable enough. Intelligent, though on occasion he wondered if too much so for his taste - having somebody of equal footing did little to stoke his ego after all. She was polite however: well spoken and presentable. Certainly, he had to admit that he couldn't think of anyone that he would rather take over her role. Was she perfect? Not quite... but certainly a step in the right direction! And she had put up with his... eccentricities, for this long already: something most people wouldn't have done. Even if he didn't even acknowledge it himself, there was a unstated degree of appreciation he held for the woman.

(my 'posting time' will skyrocket tomorrow: as work and use of public transport resumes. Sorry for holding y'all up.) Etmas. With a flick of his wrist, the remaining cards in the deck were twirled in the air and caught firmly in his palm - somehow not scattering over the ground. He grinned. "Aiming high, eh? I like that... but remember, the smaller cards get their own time to shine at well. Doesnt matter how small it is, theres always a chance. And sometimes, it pays to bet on the underdog, y'know?" Shrugging a little, he twirled the card concealed in his free talon - raising it to his face before turning it towards the girl. "Ten of hearts. Not as lucky as a nine, but a good, strong card. That's a tough act to beat missy! Whatcha got?"

(I'll be calculating Etmas' luck with cards, dice and so on by rolling virtual dice, since he does it a lot and it's a good reflection that way. Just a heads up in case anyone was curious. Also, apologies for the long delays.) Etmas. Etmas smirked a little as the girl accepted his little game: a little gamble to ease the tension and remind everyone that no situation was too serious to make a game of. It wasn't even fit to be called a 'game' really - more a brief test of luck, but they could save the real games for when they knew one another a little better. "What card would you like it to be?" He asked suddenly, before she could actually draw. "What's your lucky number? Mine is four: never lost a game where my first card was a four..." Nodding slightly to the card held face down in the palm of his other hand - the one that he had drawn moments before - he shook his head and chuckled a little beneath his breath. "I hope it's not a six though, because I really don't want to start today on an unlucky streak."

Etmas. ...thwip..thwip...thwip... The cards were out again, though more absent mindedly this time, as Etmas smiled wryly. He saw himself as having a pretty good chance of coming out on top here, so long as nobody folded when it mattered. Though, some arrangements might need to be made first... @@Windbreaker "Heh, well said!" He smirked, stepping forward again. No sense letting this game start without him: he needed to play his first hand, so to speak. With a flick of the wrist, the deck was splayed in a fan, face down on his talons. "Fifty Two cards in a deck, not counting the jokers..." He drew one himself without looking, before holding out the thick fan of cards towards Faith. "... go on, try your luck! Aces are high, highest card wins." Pausing, he quickly added a slightly less vague and meaningless explanation. "Just a little game, if you'd indulge me miss. Eveyone here needs to loosen up a bit, myself included. You'd be doing me a favor."

@, "Something like that, yeah. Etmas smirked, grasping the offered hand firmly with his own - careful as ever to avoid causing any injuries with the shard edges of his talons. "I shoot things, their odds go down and ours go up. As for the cards..." He shrugged, though still maintained his grin. "I like cards. Doesnt have to be a story to everything, y'know?" As the girl responded, Etmas stepped back to give the congregation some space. He nodded in acknowledgement of the one called frozen, before reclining against a wall and resuming the flowing dance of the cards between his hands. There were too many voiced weighing in here: better to listen, get a feel for the players before placing his bets. And get a look at them, for that matter...

Etmas. ...thwip..thwip...thwip... The cards rose and fell in his talons, shuffled repeatedly for seemingly no good reason. Each time was the same: three turns, cut the deck and smooth the edges. It wasn't anything important in the grand scheme of things, but cards made Etmas feel better - something that he could put faith into to be on his side, but still maintains a degree of control over. He liked how they felt too, this particular deck being new and straight-edged, cold and smooth and silky all at the same time. ...thwip...thwip...thwip... These things strips of plasticard had always felt so elegant, so right in his hands. Sure, he carried dice and coins, but the cards were a strong favourite pastime for idle talons. They didn't 'shuffle' - in his talons, they 'flowed' like a liquid smoothly back into themselves. ...thwip...thwip...thwip... Abruptly, he stopped. The deck vanished into its pack as the Griffon stepped forwards. He had listened for a while, but was too impatient to simply sit on the sidelines. Smirking, he cocked his head slightly to the left and raised a brow knowingly. @@FractalMoon, @, "I'd wager we'll be setting down for a while." He commented, running a talented hand through the feathers atop his head as he eyed the others with mixed feelings. A military Rifle was securely fastened to his back: secure and professionally - a stark contrast to the heavy revolver that hung by his hip in a loose fitting belt. The end result was... somewhat jarring, to say the least: a kind of mishmash of modern soldier and ancient cowboy gunslinger from and old western storybook. "That's how they like to play, right? Nice and safe..." The Griffon shook his head, eyes twinkling their slightly mismatched colours. Clearly, he didn't lack confidence. "Names Etmas. Etmas May - it's my job to stop you lot from going all in on a bad hand. A pleasure, and all that."

Adrass. "I thought you'd be smarter than that, dancer." Adrass noted coldly - a lilt in his voice that suggested equal parts amusement and irritation. "If I am not infected, then you're about to pick a fight that will do nothing but waste time and energy none of us have to spare..." He blinked, shaking his head briefly as he did. "... and If I was infected - as impossible as that might be - do you really thing you would stand a chance with your toothpick there? You couldn't kill me while I was only half alive: do you think you'd fare better against me while I'm not only healthy, but fuelled by a dark posession and primal rage?" It was all a matter of maintaining a cool indifference: he'd forgotten that, until recently. The fortune flowing through his veins made it easier to fall back on the old ways - the ways from before everything was so complicated. The hunter stepped towards Lance - feeling the tip of the blade press against his skin. "What you can 'sense' is no more than Felix Felicis - a luck potion taken alongside Wolvesbane to ensure that I didn't fall foul to a fate worse than death. A precaution which was no doubt unnecessary given the resilience of my people, but one I wasn't willing to leave to chance. As for the Wolvesbane, I've made it perfectly clear from the beginning that there is one person whom I must protect. The rest of you are expendable if necessary, and I'm not going to risk her life on the off chance it might save yours by spreading what little I have too thinly." Raising his voice, he glanced around briefly. "And on that note, might I add that every moment you waste with these petty attempts at turning this group upon itself is another moment that their deaths approach. Truly, your claim of being an ally is questionable at best. I'm certain that I'm not the only one to notice how quickly you turn on us..."

This. You know how many people I see using the 'PC Master Race' thing seriously? None. I joke about it, sometimes. That's it. Conversely, here's an entire thread of people claiming that PC gamers are elitist and intolerant, and that their console gaming ways are far superior. I didn't see a 'I hate console gamers' thread up on here. Am I the only one seeing the Irony in this? Seriously? Can everyone stop complaining about everyone else who doesn't like the same magical light box as they do please? This whole thing is a none-argument.

Advanced roleplays have a minimum limit of 600 characters per post: meaning that participants must write at least one strong per paragraph every time they post. In contrast, normal roleplays only require a minimum of 200 characters. In theory, this means that Advanced roleplays are for skilled writers wanting to roleplay in greater detail. In practise... well, let's just say that a lot of people press 'advanced' thinking that it makes their roleplays 'special' and forcing their players to write more than they are comfortable with.

Adrass. "Smear as much as you can into your clothes - quickly." Adrass ordered the princess - now not being a time to deal with her petty protests and spoiled tantrums. "If you want to live, anyway. Just keep it away from your mouth - it's a deadly poison." The 'softly softly' approach didn't seem to ever work properly: it was always too slow. No, he needed immediate action - which was usually easiest through threats. "If you don't, you'll die in the next few minutes. Not even pleasantly or quickly I'd wager: they'll probably tear open your stomach first - while your still alive." The hunter stated. Strictly speaking, it wasn't like. "It might smell bad, but I'm pretty sure corpses smell worse. Now stop talking and do it!"

Adrass. Even now they stood and talked - always arguing and never taking action. Adrass shook his head - still filled with warmth and focused confidence from what he could only presume to have been the luck potion. It was a miracle that most of them had gotten this far in the first place. He withdrew the same bottle of pungent sludge that he had treated his bite with just moments ago from his coat, unstoppered it and emptied some out into his palm - proceeding to begin the foul smelling concoction into his coat. Beginning at the collar, he worked his way down to its base just below his knees. It was truly ruined beyond recognition now, but that was a simple fact of life. This stuff could keep away humans with its smell alone, never mind Wolves. He reflected with a slight smirk. The bottle was almost empty - it's vile contents now soaking into the once fine coat. Keeping the full bottle safely hidden away, he thrust the remainder of the bottle in the direction of the princess, he raised his brow. "You're not going to like this." He said simply as he stepped towards her.

Adrass. Conflict raged in Adrass' head, though not quite over the argument the rest were involved in. On one hand, he felt that he needed to leave messages that his apprentice might follow, should she be behind them somewhere as he had hoped. On the other... whomever was following them might well find them first - or worse, alter them. He was torn, but scavenged a piece or charcoal from the fire and scratched a small note into the back of a nearby tree. 'Do not engage. Cover scent. Tread softly. Deny any trace.' That would have to do - would she find it? If she still tracked like he had taught her it would be found in minutes. He slunk back towards the confrontation. "Fine." The hunter stated. "But I have work to do, and dont intend to die today, nor tomorrow or any other day. You can wait to die if you want, but I'm leaving." The flesh might have healed, but the marks of his coat where the wolf had bitten down were clear enough, and the blood only served to worsen the effect. A shame - what had been a fine looking piece of tailoring was quickly becoming as torn, bloodstained and dirty as his last. It seemed that the iconic 'worn' appearance of the hunter just came naturally. With one hand in his pocket, he idly thumbed through the vials while he spoke - getting used to their feel. It had been disastrous, pullubg the wrong ones at the wrong time - better to know by touch than not at all, and that learning started now. Wolvesbane had proven useful, and he still had most of the two bottles remaining. If it's most outlandish rumors were true, then he had no doubts that the simpler ones were as well. His people were raised to be resourceful: to overcome so called 'impossible' odds. Perhaps not exactly like this but... His other hand held the revolver. It was heavy, but comfortably so. No doubt it would prove invaluable - and something to be highly guarded. Such a weapon in the wrong hands: if armies could be handed these it would spell disaster for all involved. A shame the engineer was no longer with them: the hunter had an idea that he would have enquired about, had it's creator still be there to ask. "So, if you want to sit here and cry, be my guest. I have one person to protect, and won't lose any sleep if the rest of you choose to stay.

Adrass. Adrass felt his teeth clench and his eyes burn from the searing pain that spiked throughout his body from the wound. He closed his eyes - breathing in hard, haggard gasps for a few moments. It had been a stupid thing to do: pouring poison into a wound. He should have just shot himself... no, he should never have been here with these Witches in the first place. Now he was being punished by the void for his negligence of duty. And then... It stopped? He opened his eyes - staring incredulously at the 'wound' as it healed even as he watched. His luck had aparrently held out once again. Strange - it was almost as if something divine was... watching over him. That couldn't be true of course: hunters made their peace with whatever gods they believed in during the early years of their tutorials. Adrass knew perfectly well that no deity would guard one like him - it was all down to luck. Luck, and his own resourcefulness. Testing his arm carefully, there didn't seem to be any permanent damage done beyond the superficial, and he already had enough scars for one more to not concern him. He blinked, shook his head and rose to his feet again. With one hand, he drew his revolver as he approached the were-girl. "A fine time to discover consciences." The hunter commented dryly. It wasn't a taunt, but there was an edge to his words. A bite that hadn't shown before, despite his bravado and blustering - pragmatic, cold and logical. "This was like every other conflict we've slaughtered our way out of - and now I suppose you want to let them free now that you know they're like you - humans cursed with Witchcraft? Hypocrisy... It's them or us - let me fulfil my duty, if none of you have the stones to do what you have to."

Adrass. The hunter stepped forward to follow up on his attack: at least now he had an idea of what the silvery potions did, although it wasn't exactly what he had hoped for. Gun raised to fire upon the unhindered wolf, he suddenly winced and threw himself to the ground. The bite was burning - agony stretching through his flesh with far more vigor than it had any right to do so. Was he cursed? Everyone knew how the curse spread in children's stories, and he hadn't heard any better explanation which made sense. This... wasn't ideal. "Knife!" He shouted into the commotion - voice laced with a fear and panic that had not surfaced since he was a mere child as it cracked and shuddered. "Where is it? Fuck..." Death was something that the hunter would accept willingly: but not like this. Not now, and not to a damnable curse like this. This was a date worse than anything he could imagine - a blood curse of the foulest magic, in the company of those who would likely try to use his accursed body for their own dark purposes. Besides, he still had unfinished business with a certain 'unstoppable' Witch, and he didn't intend to confront his own mortality until she did. Where had it landed? A technique any hunter was familliar with was self nullification - impaling themselves with a rule weapon to prevent curses spreading and halting magic that they couldn't deny alone. It would have been worth a try - however unlikely it was to work against something like this - if he hadn't been so stupid as to thow the thing! Fumbling through his pockets again, he pulled out one of the vials of putrid green liquid. Wolvesbane? Little more than poison and superstition... but surely any chance to avert a fate worse than death was better than none? Even death would be preferable. To whatever was going to happen him him. A second bottle clicked against a rock - golden liquid this time. Had it fallen from his pocket? Lucky it hadn't broken. Resigning himself, the hunter sighed heavily - pulling the stopper from the golden liquid first and - after sniffing it dubiously - swallowing a small amount as he re-sealed the rest. He quickly followed this up by wrenching the stopper from the bile-coloured bottle. Flinching doubtfully, he spilled some of its contents into his hand and pressed it onto the bite. All he could do now was hope, and try with what little willpower he had left to deny the infection.

Adrass. "Bastard!" Grunted the hunter as the teeth sunk deep into his collar - mercifully missing his windpipe but tearing are flesh and muscle. He was sure something made a sickening 'crunch' as well, but focusing on details like that was difficult with a hulking alpha werewolf latched onto ones torso. He threw himself to the left, placing a foot firmly against the beasts stomach and pushing it away - wrenching his sword back from its chest as he did. His right arm wasn't responding to his actions correctly, but he could deal with that later. Swinging the blade onto his back with some difficulty, he jammed a hand into the pocket of his coat and grabbed for another vial. Holding it in his palm, he also grabbed the handle of the unused revolver with the same hand. The pain had been dull until now, but was growing quickly to an agonising sting. He tried to focus him mind and deny it, but something was wrong - his faith was shaken. Without the fury and the zeal, he was just another guy with a gun. The vial was one of the silvery coloured ones - there wasn't time to fumble around finding something more appropriate: he would just have to hope that the colour meant something useful. With a grunt, he tossed it underarm into the air above the battle, before reaffirming his grip on the gun, taking aim and shooting at the bottle as it reached its ascent - still in the air for a fraction of a moment before it began its descent. Bullets didn't seem to hurt the things, and he couldn't use his sword with a wounded arm. He had no idea what this stuff was - it was as good a plan as any.

Adrass. Flexing his fingers, Adrass snatched at one of the vials on his belt - Alchemists fire. He held it in his left palm as his right darted to his back. Finally, he had the creatures attention. Adrass stared down the beast, reaching behind him as it approached and clasping the unfamiliar handle of the fine blade that hung at his back. It was larger, bulkier than his own weapon - his previous weapon - but aside from being a truly two-handed weapon and less easy to balance in only one, he found that it was surprisingly easy to wield. The grip was cool - almost unnervingly so after the warmth of the heartwood grip of his last weapon - and comfortable... perfectly sized and shaped. Yes, he could grow accustomed to this. With one motion, he lashed out with the arm holding the glass vial. Knowing that the creature wouldn't simply stay still and take the hits forever - it would start trying to evade them eventually - He hurled it downwards towards it's feet rather than at the beast itself. Bringing the now free hand up to the blades handle as he angled it forwards, center of gravity low as he braced for an impact. ----- Adrass Stance