[i]"O lord Raidriar...destroyer of worlds, slayer of man...legendary warrior, manipulator of the Hellwind... Grant me strength, strength most rewarding, for when the time cometh for the shedding of the blood of your enemies...know that I will be there, to shed said blood... Amen, and glory to Raidriar. Amen. And glory to Raidriar."[/i] [i][u]-Spoken by Marcia[/u][/i] [u]5:31 PM, Dojo[/u] [u]A random courtyard...[/u] [i]Rain pounded upon the earth of Tatakai as lightning flashed upon the grey skies, thunder booming in the distance as the trees within the Dojo's thick stone walls waved, pulled by the strength of the wind in its wild state. As nature let loose her wrath through the form of pounding rain and thrashing winds, one girl simply stood out in the middle of the chaotic weather, staring up at the grey skies themselves.[/i] [i]Standing at a short height of five foot six, the girl was terribly thin and frail looking, although she was not malnourished. She couldn't have been any older than eighteen or nineteen, with light olive skin, high cheekbones and an angular, sharp face. Her brunette, short hair flew and waved slightly in the wind, as a smirk formed upon her face. But the most interesting bit was the girl's eyes...[/i] [i]The girl's pupils and irises were completely blue, clouded deeply by the color as if they were oceans, while speckles of brilliant gold could have been seen deeply within where the young woman's pupils were. She seemed blind, really - although that wasn't the case. [/i] [i]Wrapped tightly around the girl's thin body saw a bleach white and ruby red robe, which reached down to her ankles. A bright red hood hung from the back of the robe's neckpiece - although oddly enough, the girl did not cast it upon her head in the downpour. Hiding away the girl's thin hands were a pair of light black leather gloves, while her feet were shielded away by black combat boots.[/i] [i]And upon the girl's back, resting within a deep brown leather sheath, was a claymore-styled greatsword, the golden hilt which was wrapped with black leather seen through its own sheath. A short sword hung tightly at her waist, the blade of the weapon hidden away by its own sheath in a similar fashion to the claymore.[/i] [i]As the raging storm carried onwards, Marcia remained outside, frost and deep blue magic beginning to swirl around her thin, frail body. Clearly, she was waiting for someone or something - whether that be a simple conversation, or combat.[/i] (Open to all. Talk, combat...whatever XD.)