[b][i][u]Regret, forget.[/u][/i][/b] [b]The sun shined upon the dojo, and it's inhabitants as they trained, ate, talked or the likes. A gentle breeze moved through the Mountains, causing the leaves of the trees to sway in the wind. And then a sudden darkness filled the air, feelings of sorrow, regret, hate. A man was on the path towards the Dojo, an odd Musketeer like hat on his head. Some would recognize, others not. He approached, and his armor or rather, clothes seemed baggy and were completely black along with his hat. He looked up, a blond mustache obscuring most of his besides his blue eyes. He sighed to himself, continuing towards the Dojo as he drew a sword, then a second. The first was a crimson read, the second a sickening green. He slammed them into the ground and drew a third, fiddling with the blade. It seemed rather normal, and he pointed it at a figure that was on the path. [/b] "Move." [i]"Slayer of Aldrich. Keeper of Pontiff's soul. Bearer of the Firekeeper. Lord of Cinder. My lord, Kross."[/i] [b]The second figure dropped to one knee and the man apparently called Kross sighed deeply. He sheathed his three swords, walking over to the man[/b] "Who are you?" [i]"Hawkwood-"[/i] "The Deserter. The Dragonborne. The Dragon. I knew you looked familiar." [b]Hawkwood rose, extending a hand towards Kross, who shakes it. Kross walks past Hawkwood, continuing towards the Dojo as Hawkwood trails behind. The two approach, and the gates open, recognizing both as members. They entered the courtyard, and Kross looked around. [/b] "Missed this place." [spoiler]Open![/spoiler]