[center][color=d8e6f0][h2][u]Clementine Haschwalden[/u][/h2]
Thorne City[/color][/center][hr]
[center][@demous][@ryuzaki][/center]

[i]Did you hear something?[/i] Clementine had wanted to ask, when he first heard that strange, faint rumbling.  But, once again, the awkward pressure of social interaction and the battlefield of conversation these two woman had created pressed against Clementine's thoughts, and so he stayed quiet, hoping he might cleanly and elegantly escape sometime soon.  Then came the scream and shouts—that was when Clementine stumbled to his feet.

He went for the window, then whirled on his feet and shouted to Amelia, "Commander!  Attackers!" 

Outside, monsters with horns and teeth and eyes in all the wrong numbers and colors were pouring from the sky, some of the especially eager ones already down on the streets, ripping through buildings and civilians with careless strength.  

This, at least, was a battlefield Clementine was familiar with. 

With a small amount of fumbling, he plopped his black helmet onto his head and drew his sword—not the most elegant of maneuvers, not the most knightly of movements, but his sword was there in his hand, and he was ready, finally, to do his job.  Coils of darkness were already leaking from his blade.

As the tavern was coming to life with agitation and questions, Clementine was already hurrying for the exit.  With a burst of splinters, however, several brawny imps came crashing into the tavern, through the windows, the ceiling, and the now-ruined door.  Clementine flicked his sword, and a pinch of coal-black darkness cleaved the imp's head from its torso like a giant had slammed a great, invisible door on its neck.  But the creature had barely fallen when another monster took its place.  Another small flick of the sword, and this one went down too, and was replaced, yet again, by another imp.  

Give him a single big monster to deal with—a big, bad, beefy brute—Clementine could do that, yes.  But an army of relentless ants promised a much different story, as Clementine's fingernails began to bruise already beneath his gloves.  The darkness was setting in.  Though it wasn't his style, Clementine forced the darkness to an absolute minimum, as he readied his sword and launched himself singlemindedly into the fray.