[hr]
[center][h2] [color=a36209]Walgrave [/color][/h2][/center]
[hr]
Walgrave emerged into the darkened wood, his hands clenched. For anyone else the sudden transition from warm indoor conditions to the icy cold of a norther windy night would have undoubtedly been the cause, but for Walgrave he barely noticed. The cold had little power over his withered alchemy burnt body these days. It was instead the brief perception of the transportation itself that had unstrung his limbs, and set his hands to shivering. That brief glimpse of magecraft totally beyond his ability to grasp, much less rival.

He became aware of his surroundings slowly, eyes tracing over the bloody windswept battleground and the dueling pair with vague alarm. It had been decades since he had bestrode a battlefield himself, and suddenly he felt terribly alone, frail and vulnerable. 

[color=a36209]"Rider, Rider to me!"[/color] He gasped out, takeing a few faltering steps backwards. With a brief gesture flame guttered into existence, flickering just barely in the palm of his hand. The acidic chemical stench he always carried with him briefly flared up ten times stronger, only to be carried away by the wind. 

He eyed the battling Heroic Spirits through squinted eyes, and then turned his attention to the multitude of fallen corpses which surrounded them. The swordsman had tried to warn them about the bodies, and he had done battle with far too many vampires in his time to ever disregard such a warning. Focusing his Magi senses he eyed the nearest dead man and held his flickering flames up like a lantern.     

[@Flamelord]
[h2][center][color=fff200]Sinfjotli[/color][/center][/h2]
[hr]
Sinfjotli's boast was still echoing proudly in his ears when the scenery made its change. In a moment, despite the dark, despite the battlefield, despite the fire he knew he was home. No, perhaps it could even be said that it was because of these things that Sinfjotli knew that he was home. 

His eyes immediately found the fighting pair of heroes and, with a shimmer, his long spear, white helm and golden rimmed shield glimmered into existence. He took a few steps forward towards the two, but not enough to intrude on their ring of fighting space. He was suddenly filled with an uncanny feeling of elusive familiarity looking at the pair, but could not place them with anyone he knew from life. The woman however, was very beautiful, and for a moment he marveled at her lancework in the moonlight. Here was a true Valkari maiden it was clear to see, and for a moment his former thoughts towards the Weasel Eared Huntress were forgotten.

Now was neither the time nor the place however. 

He surveyed the field and bit back a minor feeling of frustration at the encounter. He had hoped to meet with some opposing warband and make his introduction, either to be accepted as an honored guest befitting his station, or to blood himself early in this encounter and be reestablished as this band's natural leader. This single pair of desperate warriors, with all their bannermen slaughtered on either side was another thing entirely. It would not do to part two enemys intent on one anothers blood, but neither was it acceptable for their mission to allow the possibility that they would slay each other. 

[color=fff200]"Stay your blood drenched hands, both of you!"[/color] He thundered, leveling his spear tip at the pair. [color=fff200]"The Volsungs have arrived! I bring a muster of warriors returned from Asgard and beyond!" [/color]
[@ShadowKingman]
[hr]
[center][h2] [color=00aeef]Pavel Dumitru[/color] [/h2][/center]
[hr]

Pavel glanced around the exotic city, disorientated. His poor familiar was even more put out, and once again he was forced to burn prana to ensure the now troublesome beast did not run off to find some dim cave to hide in. Blast the thing! 

He realized that a file of spearmen was spread out before them suddenly, and that moreover one of their party (he couldn't quite make out who) was giving the order to charge! 

He started running along with the others towards the towering ziggurat, hoping to dear God that some overzealous guardsman didn't decide to nail him with a spear at any moment. Never one to let the odds play out by themselves, he let his blue flames sweep to either side of him, spawning two mirror images flanking him as he ran.

[color=0072bc]"Okay Lancer! I know we don't know each other so well, but if you have some kind of heroic Babylonian diplomacy, now is the time to be using it!"  [/color]
[@ADamnFiddle]