[COLOR=C0C0C0][img]https://i.imgur.com/PQTlh82.gif[/img] [CENTER] [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5612548]Character Sheet[/url] [hr][sub][color=6D6968]THE FIRST APPEARANCE [color=white]LOCATION:[/color] ???[/color][/sub] [hr][hr][/CENTER] [color=white]"Ay, sure God’s at the tears again."[/color] a gaunt but firm gentleman grinned as the shadow of another appeared through the grey foggy morning. [color=white]"Good day to ye, sir."[/color] the man greeted the Austrian lieutenant who came to stand next to the sergeant. The old sergeant, whose name was Patrick, came from a line of humble fishermen. His sun freckles are proof of Patrick's life by the sea, yet fish couldn't pay for his grandchild's study. He stood on a limp, a reminder of a failed assignment, but it didn't stop him from clobbering the young ones and ironing them straight. Whenever alcohol was involved, Patrick could drown in a bottle and still sing louder than the room; Leonard vaguely remembered a last night Patrick's drunken moans about fat bishops and sad blisters on his feet. Leonard nodded at his greeting, [color=6D6968]"Good weather, isn't it?"[/color] A bit of tongue in the cheek, considering this was Leonard's deliberate handiwork. Would be a shame for the people they're spying on to notice them. Patrick followed Leonard's line of sight. [color=white]"Ay, but I've no stomach of spying on me own countrymen."[/color] Patrick brought the wooden pipe he held to his mouth, which he had temporarily hid away to greet Leonard. A long inhale before a puff that blended in with the fog. [color=6D6968]"Some things must be done, I'm afraid."[/color], Leonard shrugged. Another puff of tobacco. [color=white]"By the time Boney gets here, we’ll be bones ourselves! Starved, broke, an’ buried in some godforsaken trench."[/color] Patrick clicked his tongue in disgust. [color=white]"Say now, what’re ye kissin’ up to the nobles for, lad? Didn’t think the likes o’ ye needed to be butterin’ them."[/color] It was a good question, Leonard was well-respected for his ingenuity and work ethic, at least when not half-pickled. The entire corps was built for logistics, but here they were, sneaking around like common foot soldiers. [color=6D6968]"Don't get paid for questions, Sergeant. We live a different life to the spoon-fed and diapered gentleman."[/color] Leonard answered with a sly smile. The old sergeant snorted in laughter. [color=white]"Ay, least they hear ye lad."[/color] Patrick raised his pipe in a mock salute, before wandering back to camp alone. Leonard's gaze never left the settlement they were watching over, scanning it slowly through the murky skies. [color=6D6968]"Well,"[/color] he murmured to himself, finally turning around to leave, [color=6D6968]"that is no matter of mine."[/color] He begins his walk back to the military camp, not before taking a swig of gin from his stained-glass flask, fading into the mist. [hr][hr] If someone were to ask why a simple unbothered man, like Leonard, was in an obscure place and attending to something far out of his pay grade... well, Leonard would simply shrug. His statement was not just a lazy attempt at answering his comrade, but rather a fact of the military. The only things Leonard truly worried about was the supply of gin and rum, and a tavern - preferably with women inside. His pale blue eyes caught the early signs of his men waking up for morning formation. [color=white]"Good morning, sir! Quiet throughout the night, nothing to report."[/color] a bright-eyed young corporal saluted Leonard. [color=6D6968]"Good morning, Corporal Conner."[/color] Leonard acknowledged him with a nod. The other men began to notice Leonard's presence in the camp. [color=white]"Mornin’, Leftenant. Fog’s waitin’ on you, it is." "You bring the weather with you again, sir?"[/color] a few chuckles and guffaws followed. [color=white]"Enough of that, lads. To your ranks!"[/color] Patrick hobbled in front, barking out orders as he fell into formation with the rest of them. Silence fell upon them whilst Leonard took his spot in front of them. 'Just another normal night.' is what the soldiers were thinking. Yet, it was anything but normal. There was a letter perched on Leonard's desk. It was addressed from a noble woman who was worried about her son stationed away from home. The letter spoke of 'keeping tents clean' and 'mending socks'. [color=6D6968]"We'll have another day upon us, men. Attend to your usual duties."[/color] Leonard ordered. But the men understood. Leonard locked eyes briefly with Patrick, a solemn nod from the old man. It was code: 'unusual'. Especially from a man like Leonard, who'd rather flirt with danger than file it. And so, without a word, the men dispersed - watchful and sharpened now. Something was wrong, and they were being told to watch the wind. Shortly, Patrick shuffled into the command tent. [color=white]"Seems we're in a bit of a pickle, ay?"[/color] Patrick dropped into the wooden chair with a grunt. Leonard didn't answer right away, but simply took another sharp sip of his gin, glancing the letter across his desk. [color=6D6968]"Unfortunately... more than a bit."[/color] With a few more sips, he leaned against the table, eyes darkened. [color=white]"Bloody oath. These goddamn nobles."[/color] [img]https://i.imgur.com/ie0pHVA.gif[/img] [CENTER] [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5612178]Character Sheet[/url] [hr][sub][color=C71585]THE FIRST APPEARANCE [color=white]LOCATION:[/color] VIVIAN MANOR[/color][/sub] [hr][hr][/CENTER] A beautiful autumn morning, as it often was in early October. The dawn’s gentle light spilled across the tall windows of Vivian Manor, gilding the fine woodwork and glancing off portraits of valour long past. The halls bore the weight of honour and tradition, steeped in the legacy of a knightage deeply entwined with the service of Great Britain. Selina felt at peace here, yet it not her home. She hadn't felt at home ever, not since the passing of her father. And so she looked at her mother now with weary, exasperated eyes. They were already well overdue for arrival at the school. [color=C71585]“Mother, I shall be late.”[/color] She watched as her mother, Lady Agatha, methodically check her valise. A stern and formidable woman, once a noble lady, now reduced to the dignified post of a governess. [color=white]“I am merely ensuring your belongings are in order,”[/color] Lady Agatha replied, her tone clipped and precise. Selina pressed her lips into a thin, resigned line. [color=C71585]“Mother, do put the pistol away. You know well that weapons are forbidden.”[/color] Lady Agatha straightened, gloved fingers still curled about the small firearm. [color=white]“And I was taught that magic was for children’s tales,”[/color] she said evenly. [color=white]“I should rather you be armed than dead.”[/color] With a sigh, Selina took the pistol and set it atop a nearby side table. [color=C71585]“I shall be quite well, Mother. Rules are rules. And I am not entirely helpless.”[/color] She looked into her mother's eyes, a reflection of forests and the earth, ones that were also her own. Most mistake them as sisters, given her mother's youthful looks and rather outrageous statements. Selina urged her, [color=C71585]"Mother, I shall best be going."[/color] She gave a tight smile. Lady Agatha sighed, more quietly than usual, concern brushing her stern features. [color=white]"So you must. Do give my regards to the headmaster."[/color] With a respectful nod, Selina retrieved her valise and made her descent to the waiting carriage. The outside was quiet, save for some dutiful servants and her coachman. None of the other household members were available to see her off. A few were genuinely occupied, but most were simply otherwise engaged - that is to say, disinclined. It was believed she wasn't cut from the same cloth as them - too proud, too particular, too peculiar. Despite the fact she could outwit a gentleman or disarm one, but what did that matter to them? Selina preferred this - a quiet departure, a quiet mind. She did not look back as the carriage pulled away from Vivian Manor, rolling steadily towards the capital. [hr][center][sub][color=C71585][color=white]LOCATION:[/color] LONDON [color=white]-[/color] ST. EUSTICE'S SCHOOL FOR THE ENLIGHTENED[/color][/sub][/center][hr][hr] The carriage rolled to a gentle halt upon the gravel drive, its wheels crunching to a stillness beneath the imposing façade of St. Eustice's School for the Enlightened. Morning mist clung to the hedgerows, veiling the wrought-iron gates in a faint silver sheen. Selina alighted, valise in hand, her gloved fingers tight around the handle. In the other, a neatly folded parchment was clutched tightly to her breast, the faint seal of the Harewoods still intact. [color=white][i]'My dearest Selina, I have enjoyed the many years your companionship has brought me, and now you venture forth on your own journey. I shall wish you the best; I know our testing will prove useful to you whilst you study abroad. I shall come visit, should time permit. Best wishes, Countess Harewood.'[/i][/color] Selina looked beyond the gates - here stands an institution that bore the seal of the royal family. The sheer vestige of the school was many times grander than any estate she had dined in. It was no mere school - an institution for the gifted, where they were tamed and tested. A place for those, like her, to prove she wasn't a threat to polite society. Selina had turned around to bid her coachman a farewell, but all she could see was the blur of a carriage as it trotted away. [color=C71585][i]'Rude.'[/i][/color] Her footsteps echoed across the marbled and polished stone as she was quietly directed by a steward down a long corridor. At the end of the hall stood the headmaster's office, its door slightly ajar. With a polite bow, the steward left Selina in front of the grand door. Pausing for a moment, she steadied her breath and adjusted the fall of her cloak. Then, with a polite knock and all the bearing of a fallen lady still keenly aware of appearances, she stepped forward to meet her future. [/color]