[b][color=9e0b0f]Morgan Rouge – Beacon Locker Room – Tuesday Morning[/color][/b]

After leaving Liam to compose himself, Morgan completed his morning rituals with efficiency. A hot shower followed by a small breakfast of bacon, sausage, eggs, ham and a turkey leg in the dining area had Morgan in high spirits. By the time most students were getting dressed Morgan was already busying himself with checking his weapons and prepping gear in the student locker room. The sextant of pistols cutlasses that made up Fortune’s Six were arranged neatly out of their holsters before Morgan as he painstakingly oiled the edges of his weapon’s blades and the barrels of their pistol form. His father had stressed the importance of proper maintenance when it came to equipment. After all, a man’s tools were a reflection of his character. 

With a satisfied grunt Morgan gave a final inspection and began holstering and strapping Fortune’s Six in place just as Glynda’s broadcast sounded.

‘Would all first year students please report to Beacon Cliff for Initiation. Again, all first year students report to Beacon Cliff immediately.’

Before the last words had finished, Morgan strapped the last of Fortune’s Six’s pistols into its belt holster, retied his red bandana over his hair, and charged out of the locker room with an indefatigable purpose. 

[color=9e0b0f][b]Morgan Rouge - Beacon Cliffs - Tuesday Morning[/b][/color]

Arms folded and standing ready on his launch pad, Morgan couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at the dynamic manner they’d be making their entrance into the Emerald Forest as Ozpin called it. Some of the other students seemed to share his enthusiasm as they were sent skyward, but many weren’t stomaching the prospect with much joy. One Faunus girl in particular carrying an impressive pair of tower shields looked like she was about to faint before her launch pad sent her hurling through the air, and other students were wailing in near panic as their turn came up, quite literally.

Speaking of which, Morgan stretched his arms and legs to loosen the joints as his turn neared and the sounds of students flying through the air either whooping or screaming came closer. He had enough time to give his weapons one last check to make sure they were securely fastened before the last student to Morgan’s right, a small girl with an impressive mallet, was sent sailing into the air squealing with glee. 

Winking at the next student in line, Morgan was abruptly catapulted into the sky his shirt fluttering behind him, the ground racing beneath him in a blur, and blood rushing through him with exhilaration. He rapidly soared in an arc over the forest and began cannonballing through verdant trees and leaves as gravity took command and Morgan rapidly descended into the forest proper. Unsheathing the pair of cutlasses at his belt with a smooth motion, he began slashing and cutting apart branches as they whipped ahead of him. The ground rapidly threw forward to meet him, but just before hitting the ground, a pair of thick scarlet tentacles shot forward from sturdy overhanging tree and wrapped themselves protectively around Morgan’s torso. The tentacles stretched and strained as they grabbed hold of Morgan, stopping his descent mere inches from the ground, and giving him a nice view of the forest floor before the tentacles whipped back like a bungee cord and Morgan began backpedaling back into the sky. 

Flipping back into the air, Morgan cut the pair of tentacles from their mount on the tree’s branch and flipped once more before landing lightly on the branch and anchoring himself by driving his blades into the branch before his own momentum could topple him out of the tree. 

Overhead, the amputated tentacles sailed upward for a moment before disintegrating into a stream of salt water and raining back down on Morgan in a light shower. Wrenching his cutlasses free, he sheathed them, and straightened his back to enjoy the view from atop the tree.

“I am just way too good at this,” he quipped.