[center][i][u]Paul Delacroix - Fashionably late to the party[/u][/i][/center]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/7RNtZFH.png?2[/img][/center]

In no particular rush or hurry, Paul followed after the Lady Maria as she made her way towards the screams of a townswoman in need. Keeping a respectable distance behind the pale woman, Paul's senses took in his surroundings as he casually walked. His cane making a soft wooden [i]clunk[/i] noise in between each of his deliberate steps. The smell of Iredele was terrible and made his nostrils itch. The very picture of the small town was bleak, drab, and dreary. Save for the prior screams and the howling winds, the town was graveyard quiet. It all had a deathly and eerie ambiance to the town. But, other than that Paul thought little of the place as vile and dark as it may be. In very short time, Paul found himself left behind and alone to himself as the Lady Maria had gone on ahead at a relatively faster pace.

No matter. He had a general idea and direction of where he needed to go. He held very little curiosity for the cries of the allegedly innocent woman whose screams pleaded for immediate release. Arriving shortly after most of the 'festivities' Paul observed the queer cheers of the townsfolk for the hooded creatures that were dragging a poor maiden to her doom. From what he could gather, the female had committed some crime that deserved her current fate. When the others took action, they suddenly fell silent. Were they not supportive and inviting of Paul and his supposed comrades? Hm. Dull eyes scanning the current situation, he saw Donny being pinned by one of the hooded creatures who he heard being referred to by the idly watching Lady Maria as a 'God's Hand'. As the hood of the creature fell back and snapped its frothing snout at Donny, Paul hesitated in his stride momentarily. Blinking, he couldn't help but wonder what a strange canine humanoid beast it was. Why was it called a 'God's Hand'? What God would think to create such a monster as their acting hands? Looking to a God's Hand that freed itself from a hangman's noose that Donny apparently fashioned for it, he watched as it pounced at the cheerful and bubbly girl from earlier. The bespectacled spearman spouting some nonsense as he rushed to Donny and the girl's aid.

Smirking, Paul felt a little inspired to take action himself. He had some questions for the lady being dragged off to be punished. Surprisingly, Paul found himself barely fazed by the whole hellish predicament. This was to be their first hunt? Very well. Paul thought to fire off a shot with his pistol but remembered he had no ammunition to load it with. Instead, Paul decided to steel himself by having a semi-private conversation to no one in particular.

[b]"A hunter, unnerved by a few beasts? Heh. No matter. Enough trembling in your boots, a hunter must hunt."[/b]

The Lady Maria assured the safety of the poor woman in the clutches of the God's Hands, but Paul felt she had no need to intervene.
They would take care of matters, and they would all learn on their own. Paul felt she had no need to hold their hands.

Formulating a plan of action he figured while the other three were busy with the two God Hands, Paul would care to the other three still surrounding the poor woman. Confidently striding straight towards them, he lifted his walking cane and twisted the handle. Swiftly unsheathing the long hidden blade within and holding in his right hand, he kept the other blunt shaft in his left as a striking implement. His eyes focused on the lady in the God Hands' grasp. Slash at their arms to free the woman. Stun them with swift blows to the sides of their heads. Finish them off with the blade's edge at their necks. The idea of three on one seemed exciting. A refreshing challenge. This world appeared to imbue Paul with...something, and he desired nothing more than to be put to the test as he became part of its machinations. Picking up the pace as he walked more akin to a 'power-walk' he went through with his plan as he closed the distance to the other three God Hands. A sly smile on his face, a gleam in his otherwise dull eyes. In range, he lifted the pointed end of his cane-sword and moved in for the kill.