Kloudy
The Lore Savant
Marx | Bastion of the Ethereal
(Unknown)
Flashes of a room with a long rectangular table, vague shapes and figures stood before tall chairs, echoes of voices familiar and old.
"...thank you all for... ...this guild we each cherish... ...see you on the other side..."
A timer ticking to down to 0:00, a deep magnetic humming, the sensation of everything shaking.
...
"Sure was a ride, right Will...?"
(Re-Estize Kingdom - Azerlisia Mountainside)
"...wha...?"
The sun shone brightly from above, tumbling through the klouds with warm embrace. A large gauntlet rose to shield it from view.
"What was I..."
Marx glanced around at the landscape before him. Grass plains and fields for miles. Ahead was the Azerlisia Mountainside that had been in view for some time now. A light breeze sifted through the tall grass, stirring up streams of dandelion seeds to the aether.
Probably daydreaming again... I should get moving.
Flecks of light glinted off the thick pauldrons that donned his shoulders. The rhythmic clinking of metal trickled past birdsong and crickets, timed to the even pace of the heavyset suit of armour as it marched across the realm. Across its back laid an overtly large straight-edged greatsword, worn from battles more gore-filled than serene.
On it marched, as it had for countless days or weeks or months. It had become hard to tell. Once a stranger in an even stranger land, Marx had grown accustomed to living amongst its people. Or respectfully nearby, in more sensitive cases. The sight of him was imposing enough, but what was within the armour - or rather what wasn't - scared the common people. Humans especially; the thought of the unnatural quickly devolved into phobic paranoia and irrationality. That was often when Marx would move on.
Moving was the safest thing to do. The smart thing. This place, which he had come to know as the New World, was unfamiliar and dangerous to those unaccustomed to the swooning and swaying of its politics. Avoiding organisations of great wealth and power had so far benefitted Marx, who was typically left alone on his travels. There was the understandable scare every few villages or so, but nothing that would merit dire circumstances. There was always the next horizon.
Now, a new horizon presented itself.
Maybe I should change direction. There's no telling-
Marx was snapped from his thoughts by a sudden spike in mana. Trouble. Not the kind that denoted a small-scale scuffle either. Someone was fighting further up the mountainside, possibly for their lives.
"Hmm..."
Marx had always stuck to his isolationist dogma since arriving in the New World. With no allies and very little information, his experience had been a degree more terrifying than one would expect. Admittedly, however, some of that fear could be attributed to Marx's own cowardice. He played the stoic part well, but the person inside the armour knew better. He knew that he was afraid to get hurt or die for real. That's why he chose the armour. When it was all still a game it had never made as much of a difference.
But now...?
Marx sighed to himself.
"Okay, fine."
...
...
...
It took all of a few minutes for the large walking set of armour to get closer to the combat. Dead bodies were strewn about the foliage, all apparently Peryton at a brief glance. Marx had seen these creatures many times in the Dwarven Kingdom's mountains. Vicious and quick, but void of intelligent forethought. Given the corpses laid at his feet, Marx supposed that thought to be exceedingly obvious. Still, he had never quite gotten used to the sight of eviscerated bodies. He was lucky to have his emotional suppression system when he first arrived; the idea of actually killing someone had never sat right with him. Now, in this form, he only found it regrettable unless necessary.
Saving a life, however, was exactly the endeavour he sought out.
"Deep breaths now, you've done this before..."
Mustering his courage and puffing his chest a little, Marx stepped out from the underbrush like the very icon of knighthood. Rays cut through from above to glance off his armour with zealous majesty. Taking a few weighted steps more towards the group, Marx extended a hand to greet them.
"Greetings, travellers. I have come to offer ass-"
Before he could finish his sentence a peryton came out of nowhere and tackled the oversized knight back into the bush he had appeared from with a metallic thud. A low groan was all that followed.
...
God, that was awful. I hope this peryton kills me before I die of embarrassment.
Of course, he knew first impressions were important and lying around in a bush was not going to solve that problem. The issue he was having revolved around how to approach the travellers now. In fact, Marx was so wrapped up in trying to get his own introduction right that he failed to notice that they were all actually fine. Nonetheless...
"Worry not, 'tis but a scratch. May I offer you my assistance?"
He cringed internally for a moment, realising too late he was quoting a famous movie. The irony of it was that Marx also failed to notice the peryton that stilled remained latched to his back. Even now it was trying to fit its jaws all the way around his helmet.
Marx does not currently have his [Ring Of Giants] equipped.
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' and a variety of other names that were lit up as online were selected. 
