[center][h2][color=skyblue]Marque de Bourdeaux[/color][/h2][/center]
[hr]

No. No no no. No no no no nononononono NO! So much death, so much suffering, gathered and left to stew, to coalesce, as though the machinations of a malevolent witch crafting her brew of pure malice and suffering. And Marque [i]felt[/i] it. Emotions washed over mind and body, threatening to drown him like a pebble at the mercy of a great torrent. He dropped to knees, sobbing tears into leaves. Perhaps to an outside observer he appeared of weak constitution, or incapable of managing such grisly imagery. The truth would easily be lost on such ignorant to his hidden potential. It was not sight nor smell of such offal breaking him down. Nay, such honor belonged to the ghosts of the victims. Like a swamp of emotion, left behind after this atrocity, Marque could not avoid sinking in. He... He had to back away. To remove himself from such radiating despair, lest that be all which dominates his heart and soul for years to come.

Stumbling, the stage actor moved back, leaves crunching with every pounding beat of the heart, pumping fear across every pore. Once a certain distance had been attained, one of nearly forty feet, he spoke out to others in a voice quite shaky, for the lessened emotions had not been quelched entirely. [color=skyblue]"I find myself haunted by the spirits of these men, and cannot approach without madness. I seek a specific man, and pray he lies not amidst these deceased. He is known as Gardevoir, might you keep an open eye?"[/color]

Marque then went on to describe his mentor to the others, in hopes their vigilance could be his strength in this time of great weakness.

[hider=Gear][list][*]cases of makeup
[*]Couple masks
[*]Two sets of clothes
[*]A wig
[*]Bag of coins
[*]"Proof" of affiliation to House Bryce
[*]Backpack
[*]1 days trail rations
[*]Outdoor blanket
[*]Flask of water
[*]Overwhelming empathy attack[/list][/hider]