[center][img]http://orig15.deviantart.net/2fa9/f/2016/187/8/b/thedoc_by_zelosse-da8xqso.png[/img][/center]
[center][h1]"[color=00a651]𝓣𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇[/color]"[/h1]
Anton Duboi[/center]


Like the strange shielded man on the horse, Anton had not been part of the larger host of people. Following close by on a horse he had procured, by what means he would not reveal, and followed the fighters on foot till he arrived at what passed for their camp or meeting spot. Whichever they preferred to call it. Dismounting with ease, Teller turned his attention from the horse and onto the group. His gaze was hidden behind dull glass of his beaked mask as he examined everyone in the group. From the looks of it, the group had everything. A young lass in charge, another young lass in a plated skirt, an undead monster, and your standard caste of aggressive fighting fit soldiers. Nobody but him would know he was grinning as he readjusted his hat and rested a hand on the handle of the Kopesh sheathed at his hip. 

[color=39b54a]"Apologies for my lateness, Captain. I pray nobody is in need of a doctors aid just yet?" [/color]

Standing over 6 feet with a slim body and an outlandish outfit, the doctor was easily recognizable. Though few would find him physically intimidating. A reputation for bloodshed and bandages it was easy to see where he would best fit in. Few could deny his skill on the operating table and the battlefield. Those who knew of his peculiar fighting style would notice the vials of swirling liquid on his chest and easily surmise that more was hidden up his sleeves or in the pockets of his coat. Ointments to soothe the aches and pains of war, sedatives to induce sleep, and that most heinous of poisons. No doubt his blade would hold a coat of it by the end of this.