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

Level 3 - (17/30) EXP 
Location: Small Town
Word Count: 455

[hr]

Earlier-[@Gentlemanvaultboy]

Agoston looked down at Linkle after she chastised him for swiftly eliminating Grimm. [color=f26522]"Never give your enemy the chance to strike you first. Kicking people while they are down is the best way to make sure your kicks land true. We fight for honor, not with honor. Those foolish men and women who believed in such naive fantasies are long dead where I come from. Victory is the ultimate goal, how one gets there is irrelevant."[/color] Happy with his "advice", Agoston strode away before the young hero could say anything at the time.

Hammerhead-[@thedman]

Centurion was immediately suspicious of the mechanic and the town's inhabitants. Everyone else he had met thus far was under Galeem's control in one way or another. The Centurion himself had fallen under the false god's control. Were it not for the pink pillow creature named Kirby, he would probably be some sort of creepy anti-Agoston puppet, wandering the wastes right now. The armored warrior shuddered at the scale of the tremendous loss of free will. This was a wrong that must be made right!

As such, Agoston stayed on the outskirts of town, searching for any sign of trouble. The group had grown somewhat. New members were being picked up all the time. The thought of not knowing half the members of this party made Agoston uncomfortable. Normally he would be asserting some authority over those he fought with. But this was a land of great warriors from all sorts of impossible places, and the Centurion sensed he would not be able to get them in line like he could a group of common peasants. So ultimately, they were to be left to their own devices. On the other hand, it felt good to be among peers. Rarely did he ever meet a warrior of his own caliber back in the Southern Empire. If he did, usually they were a Viking, or Samurai. Hopefully this relative lack of group cohesion wouldn't be an issue. Fortunately he had never seen a group of individuals so singularly focused on a task, as much as they enjoyed dilly dallying he must admit they always came through in the end. It would take months to train peasants to be so willing to throw away their life for a greater good.

Centurion ended up hovering a distance back from where Micheal and Franklin were. Lost in his own thoughts, Centurion shook himself out of his self-reflecting stupor and perked up. It seemed the gun-toting pair had noticed an old acquaintanced of theirs. While Franklin had proven to be a valuable sharpshooter asset to the cause, he didn't exactly come quietly. Thus, the Centurion "stealhily" observed what was happening from about 50 yards away.