[color=f26522]Magnumus Agoston, Centurion.[/color]

Level 1 - (7/10) EXP
Location: Scrap Yard
Word Count: 478 words

The Centurion knelt down, his eyes scanning through the slits of his helmet through the battlefield.  One thing that has piqued his interest were these people dressed in all metallic armor. Through their discarded bodies, the Centurion had made a troubling revelation. They were yet another force he did not understand. The entities did not bleed, nor did they have any sort of internal organ. They all seemed to carry these arms of fire, though it did not do them well against the ferocious evil rabbit creatures. Even though all of these entities were evil, it seemed they were not a peace with each other. In their corrupted forms they fought and squabbled over seemingly very little than land or territory. What ideology could these beings possibly posess worth dying over? Even the savage Vikings to the icy wastelands north of his home fought for Valhalla and their misguided notions of "freedom." These creatures were mindless. So why did they fight? It seemed this Galeem entity's perfect world was not perfect at all. 

Still, even if these metal men were steel, and felt no pain, his sword would cut through them well enough with a well placed blow. Through years of training and mental fortitude, few armors could withstand the might of a legionnaire's blade. Further out, a menacing figure stood. A maniacal man with two entities next to him, both seeming to be armed to the teeth with projectile launchers. Dangerous, indeed.

[color=f26522]"I must admit, I am out of my depth."[/color] Agoston said, showing a rare sign of humility. [color=f26522]"Of course, if before us lay a Samurai infested jungle, a Viking horde, or a Wu-Lin naval fleet, I could show you the way through with ease. In the matters of this strange reality I am unexperienced. Strange rules, and stranger creatures. I need to get up close and personal to deal with these malignant entitites. Exotic strategies for exotic lands! I look forward to testing my mettle and metal against a foreign threat, but I need help. I defer my strength to the group's will. 

To the right, there is conflict. Perhaps we could strike in the chaos of battle. If we do not take them now, I can only imagine the winner of the battle will find us later. To the left, a suspicious calm, but an apparent path to our objective. The final obstacle being the goggled man and his two gun devices. I say we strike the battle now, while we have the chance. Test ourselves and our foes before we find ourselves with their undivided attention."[/color]

He had embedded his blade in the ground while he talked, rubbing the chin of his helmet as if it were his real face. Agoston was at peace in his armor, like it was an extenstion of his being, and in some ways, it was.