[h1][center][color=fff200]Nicodemus Flamel[/color][/center][/h1]
[center]Location: Phoenix Wing Guild Hall[/center]
Nicodemus Flamel, sole heir to the royal Flamel bloodline of old, would make his way through the bustling city of Magnolia after months of hiding from authorities and travelling the lone road, at last he would soon step out of the shadows and make the first step to claim what is rightfully his. What distinguishes a king is his kingdom and the support of his people, to gain the former he must earn the latter and to do that he must show that he is willing protect their interests and declare his supreme authority with no question. Joining a magical guild was, without a doubt, the right way to accomplish all of this and more, that being said what better guild to join than arguably the most powerful, Phoenix Wing? Easily fit for any royal to join with pride.

Broad shoulders open, a slight but noticeable tilt of the chin upwards and the graceful strut down the road speaks bounds of his aristocratic nature which is fortunately obscured by his more.. lower-class attire, not gaining too much attention as he proceeds to search for the guild hall. A small downturn of his mouth is all his thoughts would reveal about themselves; he was unsettled by the quake that had rippled through the earth of this land, something that wasn't natural per se, though this would only be just one of the many worries that was on his mind. Truly the mind of one born to rule is a hefty burden in the guise of a gift. 

After traversing the busy streets whilst contemplating on the many matters that plagued his mind, the last Flamel would find what he came looking for. Perhaps the daunting size of the guild pressured others of lowborn heritage but he would feel nothing but the ever so slight eagerness of taking the first step of many into path of reclamation. Always the one for theatric he would manifest a Nordic rune for 'Gust' on each palm, pushing the doors to the guild hall abruptly wide open with both hands, and Nicodemus standing in the middle of the doorway, his golden mane blowing in the wind, arms crossed in a regal manner and his amber eyes gazing imperiously.