[@PaulHaynek]
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    Too many noises. Too many smells. Too many opportunities. Annalise Xing “salivated” over the astounding scores of gears that just existed in the area directly before her. Dozens of targets, as lost in their own conversations; wearing her meal of choice. However, as an ambush predator and a dungeon specialist, Annalise didn’t have the skills required to take over a room full of people in grand combat... at least, not without wasting her reserves and endangering her meals. It had taken far too long to reach this location, and her reserves were lower than she liked -- for a human, it was equivalent to not eating for a week.

Even still, it was tempting... ‘[color=89cff0][i]Focus. Focus. Repairs. Prey always speak of repairing[/i][/color].’ Annalise recalled, as she hid herself out of sight; preparing her ambush, her attack. ‘[color=89cff0][i]Repair needs Food. Prey must have a... a... a Forge, Prey calls it.[/i][/color]’ she thought. ‘[color=89cff0][i]Still, I can’t... walk in. Prey would attack Predator without thought. I must disguise myself.[/i][/color]’ she decided, as her Reflection Core started to shine, as if polished, ‘[color=89cff0][i]Prey trust Prey.[/i][/color]’ Annalise writhed for a moment, as she silently retched, and her throat stretched, as her jaw unhinged. From her mouth, a cobalt-hued gauntlet emerged, and dropped into her awaiting hands.

Piece by piece, she regurgitated a suit of armor; bulky from top to bottom, hued in glorious cobalt, beset with gems of ruby and emerald; it radiated power of old strength and ancient magic. Screwing up her eyes, she vomited a double-sided, warhammer with a head near the size of a house door; wrapped with rings of gold, silver, and platinum, and beset with sapphires and onyx stone. Silently panting, Annalise assembled the armor, and liquefied herself to embody it.

Rising to a titanic height of ten-feet, Annalise reached down, and took the hammer into her armored hand. ‘[color=89cff0][i]I only have a few minutes. This disguise won’t last long.[/i][/color]’ Measured, almost cautiously so, Annalise walked back to the hall, and entered the mess hall proper. Through the room, she marched with a nearly a century’s worth of combat experience, and cast an aura of untouchable existence. It was all she could do, in order to avoid undesired contact, as she only sought out the kitchen -- or, rather, the forge. Her eyes surveyed a host of creatures she recognized from her dungeon life, as well as her benefactor; to whom she walked.

“[color=89cff0]Hail... no, Hark... no, Never mind...[/color]” Annalise mumbled to herself. “[color=89cff0]I have answered your summon, Leader of this Guild,[/color]” she says, voice muffled and bass-boosted to the nines, “[color=89cff0]I require use of your kitch – your forge.[/color]”
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