[hr]

[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/180614/eae760dfb09001ceeb5925ee377d4e06.png[/img]

[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181111/a25cff8d28ff73380646e6813014612f.png[/img]
[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181111/21638e735b93eb83bcfbf1006abbcfd0.png[/img]

[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181111/a25cff8d28ff73380646e6813014612f.png[/img]

[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181127/7de2c31c5c575a82406bd5f58b6f0908.png[/img]

[/center]
[hr]
[center]
	It was a lovely consummation, between Garrett Everard and Raquel, the helpful Oro woman of many occupations in Pearl. It took quite some time for the musky, sweaty, and lengthy caper to cool down. Cool down it did, the amazing, life-changing experience would leave any participant breathless in the philosophical iteration of their futile attempts to repeat the present over and over. It left the two actual participants splayed over the bed they shared in their consummation, fluids shared to the extent where the origins of the individual who produced the fluids in this escapade were unidentifiable. In consideration of the artworks made in Nero, the sight of the two in their exhausted state would be a surreal masterpiece, leaving the observer to contemplate the feelings that were felt that could create such a work of art.
 
	"[color=a0410d]Lovely Raquel.[/color]" Garrett spoke, breaking the wonderful afterglow of panting, after a room that was once filled with grunts and moans, of a conflict, a clash, of pleasures. He sat up, lovingly rubbing the sweat-glistened thigh of his partner, he knew full well he had exhausted her for the rest of the night with what and how much he had done to her. "[color=a0410d]I will return later tonight to keep you warm and ensure your dreams are sweet. I must, however, run a few nightly errands that only an individual of my caliber can perform, me being the man coming from a distant land coming here to do some valiant, yet mysterious tasks.[/color]" Garrett gave Raquel's thigh a firm pat as he begrudgingly got himself out of bed. Like a child being weaned off of a fresh teat or a new, shiny and flashy toy to play with, he hated the fact he obliged himself to leave such a blissful situation, he didn't want it to end, in fact, he was questioning even leaving the room to do what he planned to do when he left. Life was not such an easy thing to manage, where one could continue to have nothing but good experiences at a constant rate. Without some empty void, or item to strive for, life would be folly, vain, even. Getting out of bed meant that he would have the strive to return to the bed with Raquel at a later date, strive for a better life with the woman he just consummated to a pact of flesh.

	Garrett planted his feet on the wood floor, as if he were the mast to a ship, he stood straight, flexing his shoulders, and cracking his neck by moving his head from side to side, however, he was merely half-mast after such a rigorous voyage. The definitions on his body were apparent from the lighting of the room, and the sweat that made his body glow in it, many scars struck his body with discolorations of new, mended skin where damage had been done in the past, one could imagine what he went through to get to this intermission full of self-indulgence and relaxation. Years of lashings, floggings, hunting, scrapping, fighting, made his body appear to be a mural made in Tyro depicting a grand conflict, however, they use rock and metal, rather than flesh, he would have to return to taking in artwork as if it were made by Nero painters, so Garrett thought. His body, though not as bulky as the large Oro-kin that roamed Gaia, nor as compact as the Neronians that festered in their nebulosus country, was sturdy, built to withstand harsh impacts and continue, as if he were truly an effect from a psychopath's attempt at necromancy, and gifted their creation with a consciousness. As sturdy as he was, he was also quick, fast enough in reflexes and sheer speed to run with a pack of animals without falling behind or falling in general. He was fit, his body was defined. It dictated he was not complacent in any sense of physical adequacy, that was also evident at the mess he made of during his grand voyage with Raquel. He threw on his lovely undergarments and his dark-brown pants. Fastening his belt and thigh-chaps to avoid their fall and exposing his lovely parts to the public sphere, stepping into his leather boots, adorned with protective, blackened plating. He continued, throwing on a plain brown long-sleeved shirt, perfect for cold weather, tucking it into his snug pant-line before fastening his breastplate to his torso, and the subsequent arm protection and gauntlets. He appeared the same when he arrived to Pearl atop his steed, Acrid, yet now he was standing in a bedroom he shared with one of the lovely, full-figured women that were produced in Gaia. He grabbed his helmet by the brim, sliding it back onto his head, removing himself from the identity of Garrett Everard, the seditious revolutionary, and womanizer, now stoic-enough Knight with a presence threatening to those who could never stoke their ambitions, the [i]Blight[/i]ed Knight.

	It would not be long before he would be in the hallway to all of the other bedchambers, it seemed reasonable enough to make a hasty exit so as to not impede himself further on his true plans for the night. Leaving down a set of stairs, Garrett would nod past those who remained within the Inn's main gathering area, leaving out the front so as to not attract any misrepresented suspicions towards a fully armored blackened knight leaving the Inn in a hurry. The streets were completely different from when he entered, he truly wondered why, it seems his romp had removed him from quite some action. That was of no import to him now their Journey north from Gaia would continue in the afternoon of the consequent day if things were to go to plan, well, the plans he was entrusted to create out of his own volition to guide the group properly as the one with experience as the Pathfinder and an individual with a commanding presence.

	Garrett continued to be as inconspicuous as one can be as an irregular in the town with a hurried pace and a shifty demeanor on what his intentions were and where he was heading. If anyone but himself were to be accompanying him on his journey, it would take the two of them towards the lovely forested mountain-range area adjacent to Pearl, in fact, Garrett did not seem to stop at the outskirts of such a place, it seemed as if his plans were to continue into the forest as if he were searching for something, perhaps a staging area of sorts for him to perform some grand scheme to save the city from its dire straits. It was not the case however, it seemed Garrett was in a trance as he walked deeper into the forest, humming a deep, cultist, or religious sounding hymn, either to attract something towards him, or to place fear in the weaker creatures that roamed the brush. He truly was looking for a fight, with some[i]thing[/i], yet only Garrett knew what he was looking for, to those who could gander a guess by observing him, he may have been searching for one of the many incorporeal beasts that roamed which none had seen, rather, only heard through the tales passed down to them either by the campfire, or by the old crones warning them about the deep forested areas at night. It was not a compliment, to know that darker powers were already encroached towards Pearl due to the purification and healing done in the town just recently due to some lovely, helpful guests. It was also not a compliment knowing that the Nuxtan followers had rooted themselves in the shadows near civilization. Garrett did not care who his adversary was this night. He knew there would be one for him. [i]He also knew he shouldn't be speaking to himself in his head like this.[/i]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJp-vhOlOVQ[/youtube]

[@Rai] [@Jollan] [@drewccapp] [@13org] [@Lotrix Molick] [@Guy0fV4lor] [@Brithwyr] [@RumikoOhara]
[/center]