[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/01989c3a-cdd4-7239-bbf7-969d978789bc.webp[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=298e25]Location[/color]: Haven, Strange Academy
[color=298e25]Grimoire[/color]: 
[color=298e25]Skills[/color]:
[url=https://i.pinimg.com/736x/d6/67/d6/d667d6aff85379764e1832ae3b61dde8.jpg]Current Outfit[/url]
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Magic was a great and terrible thing. 

In the hands of his dear friend Connie, it was something Rohan owed a great deal to. In the hands of Finley, it was a cruel joke to be played on others. The Macleod brothers used it to wild away the centuries, and Rohan used it to survive. But Sariel’s magic, when it hit him? He didn’t know what the hell to make of it. His hand had gone to a knife, with most of body stumbling into a table as his first instinct was to cut someone. Lightning shooting into him, all the noise, it set his senses on fire. He gripped the hilt of his bone dagger and tossed it to Root, his mind winning out over the spooked animal in him. 

Their work was complete. Something under his skin was happy.

[color=298e25]”Damn… Warn a guy, next time.”[/color] He stood up straight, and rolled his shoulders. That felt like hell. He glanced over at Annika, who looked to be bleeding. [color=298e25]”That doesn’t look good.”[/color]