[center][h3]Sir Edwin Stormcrest?[/h3][/center]
[center][img]https://ik.imagekit.io/maxxo/Edwin-resized_Qa3GxU1ci?updatedAt=1756297400169[/img][/center]
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[@Moonberry]
[@Tellussoil]

Titles
[color=#0E0101][Human - Mundane], [Noble Ryke Baron] B, [Apprentice Lancer], [Power Potential], [Get Looped], [Dark Knight], [Knight in Black], [Dark Horseman] - #0E0101[/color]
Noteworthy Skills: [Resilient Surprised], Regeneration F
Asset Goal: ?

Edwin was thoroughly delighted by the discomfort he caused to the clerks who signed him up, making a point of staring directly into their eyes during the signing process. And, when catching wind of the commentary of him being a mercenary, the grin which was splattered across his face just widened. The perfect first impression had been delivered.

After having his registration confirmed, his gaze slid towards some songstress that had registered just after him. Unimpressed, her ogling of the food made him think she was some homeless runt that had stumbled into the contest. [color=#0E0101]“A pity.”[/color] He rumbled to himself, thinking of the drastic tainting of the whole event: it was worse than mere cultists, it seemed.

His attention then drifted towards the judge’s aides, if only for a moment, his armored hand tapping against the shaft of his three-pronged lance, creating a methodically metal clink in set intervals. That was, until his gaze landed upon Lady Avelyne herself. He stared back at the woman, openly and undisguised, his expression stony. He would keep the gaze, as an almost primal contest of dominance, daring not to glance away. Not until she did so.

And more and more contestants showed up, likely eager to show off their meager, insignificant skills, a certain scene caught his sight, making his golden eyebrow arch: Aedrianna calling out for the famished, destitute wretch. [color=#0E0101][i]‘Aedrianna, you should focus your efforts in ways that actually give you a better return… but I guess your pure heart brings you to help the miserable. I will fix that, in due time.’[/i][/color] He thought to himself, fully misplacing how the two came to know each other.

[color=#0E0101]“To the Western Promenade it is. I do hope that the magic from the Duchy is actually effective in lessening slashes, cuts and bruisers, or that you, at least, have some cleric at the ready. I would hate to be blamed for not controlling my own strength.”[/color] He told both of the clerks, tone chilling, rumbling, filled with both malice and promise. A brutal beast covered by a thin layer of etiquette. No warmth could be found in him at that moment.

He stepped into the sandy arena just as he had crossed towards the register: heavy steps that did nothing to conceal his presence. Much on the contrary. His azure eyes glanced over the place of battle itself and then towards the competition.

His expression was unchanged, keeping its chiseled features, almost as if it was a marble bust. Yet, there was a glint of interest behind his azure orbs, one that heralded that maybe, just maybe, there would be some fun in addition to pulling the cur out of his hidey-hole. [color=#0E0101]“Let me guess, you are all from outside the Duchy, fighting for yourselves or earning some coin from a noble to do it in their place?”[/color] He blurted that out, voice loud enough for it to carry, as his expression changed to a knowing grin.