(sure, he can be :P It's your choice)

Sylver be Ambrosia made their way into the training room. She looked at the assortment of spears they had there before deciding the one on her back she carried with her would be the best option. She swiftly stabbed several training dummies, the bite marks in their necks seemingly coming from nowhere, but Sylver knew her adopted sister was very quick and dangerous, almost impossible to see.

I walk to the training area my cloak and hood on but the moment I step inside I throw off my hood and proceed to attack a training dummy with my longsword compleatly destroying it. Then I look arround hopeing no one was watching yes I'm an elf but still I don't want to draw to much attention to myself.

(I'll do that lol, I'm too tired to want to create a room full of secondary characters that will be with him at the moment ha ha.)

Sylric Tassarion

39. That's my number.

I noticed that the hooded figure was leaving once that list had been read, as did a few others. I glanced at their faces, seeing if I recognised any, as I assumed that they would be the ones I was sharing a room with, but none of them seemed familiar. With the exception of one, which triggered a blurred memory to spring forwards from the back of my mind, but I could not quite place the face to any name, location or events. There will be time to consider it later. My main focus for the moment is to find the room and organise myself.

The room was quiet, and almost empty. I went along the wall, looking for my number on the bed.

I stopped at the foot of mine. It was quite close to the door in terms of positioning - perhaps not the best of places, but I could make do. I set my bag down on the floor, and began to sift through it to find my things, storing them in the different areas that they had given for our things.

Pressing my lips together, I worked in silence, until I paused, the suppressed coughs from earlier suddenly rising up my throat.

Several minutes of a coughing fit passed, and my limbs refused to move. I took a moment, weakened, my heart pounding as I recovered, breathing deeply to take in as much air as I could. My face flushed red, and I struggled with unpacking, my hands shaking. I waited for a little more time, but even then, my fingers were of no use.

I sighed. Nevermind. I should leave this until later. I need time for my strength to return, the journey has left me in a state. Standing, I placed a hand on my side, waiting after that one movement for the unresponsiveness of my limbs to fade. I should go and see the training area.

Quinntalia noticed the Snake-girl coming to the training room. The spear station was nearby the archery station, and no one had been there before.

Quinn pulled her hood on. She's in my bunker, isn't she? She snuck a glance at the patch painted on the girl's sleeve in dark blue.
34

Yep. Hopefully that snake isn't dangerous.She drew an arrow, released it. It hit the center. She drew five, and bent the bowstring in a way that let her launch them each at separate times in a circle around the bulls-eye and the first arrow.

I quickly sheath my long sword and proceed to the archery station to test out my bow.

Quinn noticed the girl approaching. She had long, dark hair, and skin a bit paler than olive skin. Her ears were pointed- so she's an elf. Quinn squinted. The skin color, the hair, the girl's eyes. Quinn's eyes widened in shock. Could this be the last daughter of the... She couldn't remember the name. (what's Draycil's last name?) The entire family had died except this girl- they had been another family in the nobility, she had even met some elves from the bloodline.

Quinn quickly stashed Etor in her cloak and hurried away to the bunkers.

Looking down the hallway when she reached, she saw the door. Bunker 3. She knocked on instinct.

(Ah, sorry - because I'm taking a while to reply, Sylric should be elsewhere when you guys reply. Should we have a set posting order to avoid this problem?)

Sylric Tassarion

The training area was equally as impressive as the throne room - not in a decor sense, but rather, in the sense that the vast array of dummies and weapons was rather overwhelming. Seeing them all made me uneasy, the feeling of not being prepared for this in the slightest only adding to the stress of my coughing fit.

Close-combat. I chose that area, too nervous to go to another and practice using a weapon that was not my own. My hands were trembling, so I gave them a quick shake, before taking the hilt of my dagger and drawing it from its sheath.

I stared at the blade for a moment. I had deliberately cut notches into its blade, thinking that it would inflict more damage, and indeed it did - however, from years of use, I had noticed that it had a habit of sticking in the target's flesh, something that I would certainly have to be aware of.

Re-positioning myself into a more appropriate position for an attack, I inhaled slowly, steadying my nerves. In my head, I envisioned a scene, one all to familiar - the dummy in front of me was real, but hardly human. His weapon was a large axe, especially made for cleaving open skulls. His swings were slow, but carried brute force that could kill with one blow.

Opening my eyes, I lunged forwards. It was not as fast of a lunge as I would usually do, but it was a precise movement. He's swinging his weapon down. With a quick, well-placed step, I was on his other side, leaving him fully exposed to my blade.

I shoved the metal deep inside the straw of the dummy's body. Clutching the hilt of the dagger, I stared at the painted exterior of the sack. One day, that will be him.

It took several attempts to rip the weapon from the dummy. I stood, staring at the gash that I had created, with a small sliver of pride creeping into my expression. Again.

Before I could start, a cough exploded from my lungs. Placing one hand over my mouth, I tried to suppress the others, struggling as I gasped. I glanced over at the others in the room, hoping that they hadn't noticed.

I notice a girl running away and I thought that that was very suspicious and I follow her jogging right behind her.(Thunderscale)

Quinn hurried into the room and sat on the bed labeled '30', clutching the light grey sheets. She took in a deep breath, scanning the room and noticing that no one else was in there with her.

A single thought was running through her head. How many people would turn me over from here if they saw my reward? 10,000 gold coins- maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

She pulled her cloak off, her dark hair spilling off her shoulders. Underneath she was wearing a simple set of armor she had stolen from her younger brother (only younger by a year). Her mother had always slightly disapproved of acting like a lady, but she drew the line at armor.

You can hunt, you can use magic, you can learn. Her mother's voice in her head. But you shall not fight.

She played with Etor. It was a beautiful bow, with gold and platinum engravings. No jewels, and it had the finest string she had ever used, spun with a certain material that dwarfs used. Sometimes, the arrows even seemed unworthy of the bow.

Quinntalia sighed, forgetting to put her cloak back on as Draycil approached.