[hr][center][img]http://i.imgur.com/5slHtJy.png[/img][/center][hr][indent][/indent]
[indent][color=dodgerblue][u]One week prior -- Aboard the [i]Cunning Rascal[/i][/u][/color][/indent]
The sea was blue.

Marina Brimlad sat at the prow of the ship, where she wore her black uniform outfit bereft of the heavy plates of blue armor she usually wore.  Such armor was of no use aboard a seagoing vessel, and she wanted to avoid exposing it to corrosion by seawater as much as possible.  Still, the padded uniform she wore was plenty of protection against the chilly salt-flavored air as well as the brine-soaked wood she sat on.

She frowned slightly as she straightened out the letter written to her by her father, the folded paper already somewhat bent and frayed from frequently putting it away and getting it out again.  Over the past several days, she'd read it again and again, as if hoping to find something else there written on the pages.  And here she was at it again, during a break in the usual work of assisting the sailors of the [i]Cunning Rascal.[/i]  The captain and many of the sailors were soldiers years ago under her father's command, and Marina herself had met them when she was younger during inspection tours of the ship, so it had not been difficult for her to arrange passage on the trade ship.  They had been resistant at first for her to aid in the work of running a ship, but she was stubborn and anxious to keep her hands busy, so they finally relented and she earned her place among the crew.

But there was only so much to be done, and so she found herself again perusing the letter.  The finely-written script read:

[indent][indent][i]My Dear Marina,
Your Headmaster - I do not understand why she is not called a Headmistress - recently sent me some correspondence regarding what she is terming a "field trip" she is sending you on as part of a joint venture by the Academies of each nation.  She included documentation of your numerous accomplishments at Atlas Academy, praised your diligence and enthusiasm, and indicated that you were ranked near the top of the age group above your own, with an implication that you might be able to graduate with the first class if you maintain such an impressive record.  Such praise certainly fills this old soldier's heart with pride to have you for a daughter.

I suspect, however, that I am not being given all of the details of this excursion.  None of the other parents of students have indicated to me that this has ever happened before, and there is a troubling lack of information about when you will return or who your companions will be.  You know well my feelings on the people of other countries and how the war turned out - stay close to your compatriot from Atlas Academy, and don't trust any strangers from the other countries, since they won't have your best interests at heart.  That you voluntarily accepted this assignment is the only reason I have not insisted that you return back home immediately.

If you require anything, please write to us at once.  Mother and I send you our love, and please understand that no matter what may happen, you are always welcome to return home if you've decided you have had enough of this Huntress business.

With love,
Father[/i][/indent][/indent]
Marina felt tempted to crumple up the letter and toss it into the waves as her frustration rose in her chest.  Between the lines of love and approval, she could feel her father's disappointment bleed through.  From the start, he had been against her training to be a Huntress, and only her mother's support and Marina's own determination caused him to relent.  As far as he was concerned, allowing combat trainees to run around in apparel of any color they pleased was an affront to his military sensibilities of uniformity and compliance with protocol.  Individuality and self-expression were usually what got soldiers killed on the battlefield, in his eyes - and here, the Academy of his homeland was teaching these very values to his own flesh and blood.

But it wasn't like he assumed!  Hunters and Huntresses were trained to work together and accomplish missions together, just like soldiers.  And, more importantly, she was doing this [i]precisely[/i] because she believed in her nation.  That they had lost the Great War had changed some things, but to her, there was still integrity, honor, and nobility in the face of dire circumstances.  And that was why she felt it was important to represent her country in this new endeavor.  Marina would prove to her father - and to the Hunters and Huntresses of the other Academies - that Mantle still stood brightly as a paragon of these virtues, even in this new age.

[i][color=dodgerblue]"I will not return home until I have accomplished this mission - for my Academy, my father, and my nation.  This I swear."[/color][/i]  These words she spoke to the Headmaster resonated in her memory.

But, as Marina secreted the letter back into one of her pockets, she found herself remembering the Headmaster's response, a question she insisted that Marina not answer until her return to Atlas.

[color=aba000][i]"Do not forget yourself, young Marina.  You are not the Academy, your father, or Mantle.  What do [/i]you[i] want?"[/i][/color]

[i][color=dodgerblue]What kind of question is that, anyway?  Of course it's me who wants to bring honor and glory to my nation, to get my father's approval, to graduate with honors from Atlas.  What did she really mean?[/color][/i]

She looked for the answer in the color of the waves, but all she saw was blue.

[indent][color=dodgerblue][u]Present Evening -- Arriving in the outskirts of Garen's Well[/u][/color][/indent]
Marina pushed her horse on through the driving rain, each cold drop adding to the weight of her displeasure.  She had insisted on buying a Mantle-bred steed after reaching port so she could travel to Garen's Well without needing a driver and buggy that she thought would slow her down.  After only a day on the road, the skittish and slow animal had convinced her that she had been swindled, and that she should leave the horse at the next set of stables she came across.  What was worse, she had ignored the friendly warnings of the sailors and the townspeople at port that there looked to be bad weather in the direction she was headed.  And now here she was, in the middle of a downpour without knowing exactly how much further it was to town.

She was cold, wet, her stomach complained about the dry travel rations she had been subsisting on, and she felt humiliated in about the same proportion as she had felt so proud that she was relying on her own wits and not on her father's dime.  She was not in the best of moods.

The darkness of the night and clouds kept her from seeing the mahogany-colored coach until she was nearly on top of it.  Marina pulled to one side and yanked on the reins to bring herself to a halt.  [color=dodgerblue]"You there, sir!  Is Garen's Well much further from here?"[/color]

The grizzled coachman eyed her with some contempt as he slowed but did not stop.  [b]"'Tis not much further, lass, but ye best turn back now - there be an alarm in the village, probably crawlin' with Grimm by now."[/b]  He then snapped the reins and shouted crudely at his horses as he spurred them back up to speed, away from danger.

Marina snorted contemptuously.  It seemed like almost everyone she had met since she landed was greedy and self-interested, nothing like the generous and proud people of her own country!  While it only seemed natural this should be the case, it was another thing entirely to encounter it in person.

The warning bells rang again, and she yelled as she put her heels to the horse's side, and they bolted forward into the dark rain once again.  Grimm, in Garen's Well!  She wondered briefly if it was coincidence that the town that she was to meet with the other Hunters and Huntresses was now under attack by the dark-hearted monsters.  But it was a frivolous thought, and soon she entered the borders of the town and followed a rough and muddy lane that looked like it headed toward the center of the village.

And then Marina saw it in the dim light the lampposts gave off in the storm.  A lone Grimm, but larger than just about anything she had ever heard of before, or read about in books regarding the creatures.  The monstrous humanoid creature had a strangely beaked face with a backward-swept horn jutting from its forehead, and a second face seemed to peer out from its wide chest.  Spikes and hooked spurs poked out of its arms and legs, and its fingers and toes sported sharp, gigantic talons.  Revulsion and a touch of fear wrestled in her heart, but were quickly overtaken by her usual reaction: anger.

The Grimm's burning red eyes seemed focused on a young man who brandished twin swords and seemed lightly armored...a Hunter?  He certainly was brave enough to be one, though Marina did not recognize him as her compatriot from Atlas that she was supposed to rendezvous with here along with the other Hunters and Huntresses.  Not too far away, she saw two other girls in another direction, one striding forward purposefully while the other hung back.

But there was another young man nearby at the edge of the town square, far more heavily armored - yes, Marina recognized him!  She had not been introduced to him, and he was in the age group a few years ahead of hers, so she had never met him personally, but she knew his name as the Headmaster had given it to her (just as she was certain the Headmaster had let Sep Felder know her name).

There was no time to coordinate an attack with the others, if indeed the rest of them were other Hunters and Huntresses.  And all of her frustration and anger whipped up into a frothy fury inside of her as she deliberately charged forward with her horse, who was only kept from fleeing by the Huntress.  Marina kept one hand on her horse's reins as she pulled herself up to a standing position precariously balanced on the saddle.  Her other hand reached back for the large sword handle of Bedlam Flourish, and she deployed the weapon to its full size even as she leapt into the air at the monster.

[color=dodgerblue]"For Mantle!"[/color] she shouted above the pouring rain as she flew toward the monster, and swung her blade down with a full two-handed grip at the Grimm's torso.

Except the Grimm caught her blade on one of the long bone spurs that jutted from its elbow, and a long trailing whiplike limb that dangled from the back of its head lashed out at her as a counterstrike.

In that split-second, she activated her Semblance, and a reflective metallic-blue sheen flashed over her skin as she pulled Bedlam Flourish back in a defensive angle.  The whip struck her weapon, and the tip of that limb snaked around it to scratch at her face.  If not for her Aura and Semblance, it would have cut her right across the eyes and blinded her on the spot.

Marina splashed down into the scummy mud of the town square, and her feet dug in deeply in the wet ground.  Her increased density and weight only barely kept her from slipping, but she was now stuck where she stood.  The Grimm attacked with its claws, and even with her defensive bladework, she was only barely able to parry most of the strikes, and she felt her Aura sapping quickly as each blow that got through struck resoundingly against her Anchor.

She had allowed her pride-driven frustration and anger blind her to the immediate tactical concerns of the situation, and now she was forced to remain on the defensive.

[color=dodgerblue]"Hit it!"[/color] she shouted, that same pride choking off her desperation as she mechanically attempted to get her left side facing the creature, where she had the most armor.  [color=dodgerblue]"It's on me - hit it [i]now![/i]"[/color]