Beastbound [p w Aizawa]

After you post, we'll get started!

Emil Marc* Swithin (Of the Black Arcane by extension)

*_{Uses as an Alias}

March 3rd, unknown year. Approx. 21 in age?

Faceclaim (Image Source): Schezo Wegey from Puyo Puyo Tetris (Zen Wisteria from Snow White with Red Hair works too)

Even as a young man, Emil bears extreme significance to the more aged and wiser Dark Lord of the Black Arcane. They both share a full head of grey-hair (much to his dismay) and blue eyes. Emil's fit. maintained mostly by intensive training. He wears mostly black clothing, including a black cape, tunic coat, pants and boots beside a blue headband and greaves and chestpiece. Emil wields an interesting sword that appears translucent like glass as it's blade. Rumored to be the only blade capable of killing the Dark Lord.

Emil believes that he should always look for ways to become more powerful and to better himself to he'd have a chance at defeating his father and he's very dedicated to his tasks, however he obtains it hardly matters. As a consequence of a mediocre social experience, Emil has terrible phrasing he's often oblivious to that could be interpreted as flirting or immense aggression; he'd be called a pervert or bloodthirsty and is trying to fixing it. Despite it, Emil is relatively seriously calm and, if wasn't for him ambition to become stronger, slow-paced. Even if it doesn't correlate to his own goals, Emil is happy to help others. If they don't freak out about his black magic first...

-- axle is orchard king! i wrote a good bit in this (and took me a while too-)

The "little" trip that the Dark Lord held for Emil had a brief drop landing, seeing flashes of various landscapes and livings in only a few minutes as they traveled as a dark blur interrupting the purest of blue skies. People who saw them could only describe it as a strange meteor burning, with silver glinting from black stone. The sight of all the scenery around him had him feel such wonder, like a child seeing something far grander for the first time, enough to barely overcome the large amount of disgust and fear that surged him earlier. He, a clone of his father? One who has done terrible acts that Emil was blind to? All of it felt so painfully obvious now that Emil could all but throw himself in denial. Air brushed fast past him before they both abruptly stopped, and Emil was dropped a couple feet above ground to crash into a waist-deep idyllic wheat field. The Dark Lord levitates down away from him and stares at him, "I had hoped I wouldn't be so exposed, but it was a foolish wish. It would've happened eventually. Do what you wish. Hunt me down or mind your own life now, but know: we are of the same blood."

With that, the Dark Lord jumped into the air, sprouting wings Emil had never seen, and disappearing into thin air. Emil stood up, now alone and dusted himself off. "I will not let this go." He muttered to himself, "I'll become more powerful, just to reach him!" As his vows made and done, Emil wonders past the wheat field where for the next couple of days he comes in contact with civilization. Firstly he bothered the farmhouse that owned the wheat field and get shoo'd away, getting called a "fake scout spying on" the supposedly "good folks" for something or other. After that, he traveled on dirt roads and if by stealth of pity, gotten rides into towns. Many bandits and highwaymen he'd run into would scamper away once he'd blast them with black magic or prove reliable with a sword. Word catches fast and around two weeks in, Emil is rumored a "perverted thief that (supposedly) torched various farms, stole cows to eat to the bone, and kidnapped any woman he fancied."

While he harassed a girl once, it was because she carried a medallion that had immense strength, only fine-tuned well to the wearer for perfect synergy! With such strength, he could as much as easily serve a good fight. Only for the girl to (rightfully) freak out and box him one. He was still seeing stars when, mulling outside a tavern, he finds the very same girl talking to someone else, and stalks watches her from afar;afraid of her wrath.

"What immense..." Emil mutters to himself as he took watch, failing to notice he was being watched himself. before a stranger's voice had his head turn, then fully turning his body to the man. The provoking man looked to be around his age, with blue hair tied in a ponytail. His expression was extremely grave. Had this person hear the rumors and decide to settle them out? Already two people Emil encountered brought them up, so maybe this guy was their buddy or something. That or, someone the girl knows? That'd be a problem then.

Emil's eyes flickered up and down the guy. It would be underestimating to say that he wasn't intimidating. "Good evening to you as well," Emil said, his expression unflinching. Even though as little the dark mage had seen of socialization, anyone asking for a nice chat is still suspicious. By Emil's rating, so far this guy looked like a 3 out of 12 on the Power Scale. With the straightest face and most neutral expression, Emil says, "You're not my type, but I'll entertain you." Maybe he'd be able to get good practice than some flackys anyway. Emil takes a couple steps past the challenger and turns expectantly for him to follow (if he doesn't start swinging.)

From the hunter's interesting reply, Emil raised one brow and brought down another. "I'm certain your intentions were clear. I have no intention on making any passes at you." He said, his arm relaxing on the sheathed sword hilt. He grits his teeth not at the challenger, but himself.

"Merely extreme fencing." Not that Emil had ever actually fenced in his life. His father --back when he was-- used to talk about it whenever they trained in swordfighting. Fencing, to his understanding, was the same but with way thinner swords made to poke. Emil thinks about how the leaves really shimmer in the sunset's light as he turns towards his opponent.

Dark Lord? Emil managed to lash out his sword from his sheathe to block the dagger blade from hitting him in time. It sparked as it clashed, the facing flat side showing it's translucancy. "You have me mistaken for someone else!" He backed off in a more defensive stance and slashed in order to push the scorned man away.

Emil starts straifing to the side as the scorned man dismisses his pleas. 'Innocent, I am, you bastard.' Emil thinks. His brow is furrowed at his disbelief. His heart feels heavy. "Doesn't matter if you don't believe me, I'm. Not. Him. But that doesn't mean I won't protect myself."

Seeing the man charge foward, Emil extends out his free hand and black orbs litter the ground, turning into fine spike balls. He weaves around his own creation towards him and slices at the other twice.

The first slice is mere milimeters short, so he shifts his stance a half-step closer for his second swing. The aura resonating from the spike balls reflect light shine onto the battleground floor.

Emil narrows his eyes as the other's blade blocks his swing. As strong as he is, he can't risk cranking in more pressure in case the blade's slip, and his arms catch themselves in painful thorns. "He taught me what I thought was everything he knows." The spike balls seemed to have shortened themselves. They start cracking under itself and minimizes, able to be stepped over now.

He brings his blade closer to his side as he steps over his magical creations, "I know not of his flight, or how he can make mere structures of black magic itself, nor how he can clone himself. He made me. Not by training, but literally. I am his son, and I'm trying to execute him myself." His spike balls seem to encroach towards him as he walks past them, and they waver in temperment.

"Do you finally believe me, then?" Emil huffs, slowly sheathes his blade; out of caution. His eyes show that he's rather irritated by the whole ordeal, considering a complete stranger trying to kill him.

The spike orbs shrunk considerably in size, some dispersing into particles that dissapear into the air. The stranger might have a massove grudge against his father, which is some common ground - Emil supposes.

"You're right that you should be sorry of your bad judgement, it was seriously misplaced." Emil rested his hand on swordhilt, but in contrast his posture relaxed. His expression was still serious. "But you're ambitions aren't wrong." His voice wavers more softer, but still audible. Emil was almost a talking head.

Emil wanted to know his name. He could be handy in his expedetion for the Dark Lord. If the stranger says no, oh well. "From our one fight, I can tell you have power within you. I'm also trying to take down the Dark Lord, and the more power you have, the better. What's your name?" Emil asks. His words sound careful - and they were. Already he gave off an odd first impression and he would like to not sound it again.

Emil may have been sheltered, but the past weeks have taught him not to be too open. "That sounds pretty cool, but I'll just refer to you as Axle then." The man is straight faced. Even if he didn't ask, he'd leave a referal. "You can refer to me as Marc."

While it wasn't Emil's actual name, it's what he'd been using. If the Dark Lord be trying to find his trail by name, he'd be unable to use it. It felt kind of a shame that Emil wouldn't be able to use this Axle as a helping hand, but it'd be strange so soon after they fought. "I guess we should be on our seperate way? Since this has all reached the c- end?" He scratches the back of his head, and looks back to where the village is. His eyes stay on Axle, though.

As most people has turned him away, he hadn't had much ability to earn any money to really consistently afford a room if he wanted to eat later.. Thankfully, towns are full of hidden corners and often are safer than impromptu camping. Black magic may be black magic but any shopowner would turn down an ominous purple coin. They'd believe it's cursed or something - maybe before it burns through the palm of their hand.

"That's probably a wise idea. It's kind of.. water under the bridge? I won't hold it against you, but I will stay cautious. Goodbye then, and good luck." Emil says, and pardons himself from the now awkward encounter. He walks by himself back to the town, keeping more close to the edges than before. As he walks into the town itself, he veers away from the town's inn. It's most likely where Axle would be headed, and right now Emil wanted to be in the opposite direction.