A dark, ominous wind howled against the dark masonry of the rather entry town. The streets were void of presence, save for a few individuals who were just returning back to their homes. The hour was late and stilled, possibly hiding back the undertones of grimness that was present in the lowest of chills. The sounds of hands pressing lips in efforts to hold back screams or groans was faint but noticeable and a single wolf howled at the full moon, one of the most cliched sights possible but still an effective one concerning the circumstance.

It had been some time since Damocles had heard about some odd rumor going about Briss. According to whispering tongues, a demonic presence with 'mystic powers' was terrorizing one of the smaller towns for he down enjoyment. While he was mostly skeptic about actually believing such a thing, he figured it wouldn't hurt tot investigate and find out if the rumor was true or just some tall-tale. Even though it was a rumor, he still figured their was no foul in him wearing his armor and sheathing his sword. The only hitting that really bothered Damocles was the fact that it was a night mission, hence darkness would be his surroundings.

If their was one thing Damocles Tenebrous did not enjoy, it was darkness. It wasn't something he could control though. Ever since he was a kid, Damocles was afraid of dark places. Hence why this time, he wore a cloak to somehow try to blend in with the darkness. It made no sense to most people, but to him it made perfect logic to wear a cloak in the dark. With that said, Damocles, who was already at the town, began investigating the place.

Werewolf: Rare
Weapons/Abilities: Increased Physical Capabilities, Only appears in night threads, perfect sense of smell.
Reward: 55,000 Rep - 1 Random Candy Bag - 300,000 Beli - 3 EXP
Specs:
Tier: 1
Hand to Hand: 3

---

Lurking in the night, a predator would prowl on his prey. He has fed well on the commoners, but never did he get a good brawl out of them. It bothered the werewolf who would be called ''The Terror of Angmyre'' by the people who knew of what happened in Angmyre. Angmyre was a town in the Briss Kingdom, which got entirely slaughtered by a beast with claws who cut through brick walls and left no survivors.

There were witnesses however, claiming they saw a wolf running on two legs. They were locked up as they were thought to have a mental illness. But it was no such thing. He was real, the Terror of Angmyre. After the ravage at Angmyre, no town was left anymore. People would call him, the werewolf, Angmyre. This was due to giving ''it'' a less complex name.

Now Angmyre had found a new town. This time he would be less barbaric and just feed on the humans one-by-one. The people entered their houses and sealed them, scared of the terror. Not that it would protect them against Angmyre.. Looking down below from the highest point the town had, the church, Angmyre would look around for dinner. There was but one man left in the open, tasting the darkness yet concealed. Angmyre wasn't too sure whether the man was either courageous or afraid.

Damocles was not one for darkness, but he was one for the thrill of the fight. Taking refuge inside the lone church that stood at the middle of the town. The big metal orbs of iron smashed from side to side, inside the bells well-hung over the abysmal height of the church. At the center of the middle lit dark masonic basilicae, stood a priest in simple white clothes and little decorations. He was tending to the alter and had already finished his three prayers dedicated to the poor souls of the habitude. Before the man in simple robes, stood the armored naval officer with a state of claudesque and hesitation to his form.

"Father, would you mind coming here, I am in need of spiritual aid." lied Damocles as the priest came to the marauding marine. The Spiritual leader broached the question of what was the Marines's problem and what was his circumstance. Unbeknown to the priest, Damocles had plans for the man who was hearing his lies and false confessions. Meanwhile, the dark, cold night heralded a singular atmosphere. It was of little comfort, but the ides of fate were naught to be trifled with. Hence the man continued discussing with the preacher until his heart and soul was cleaned. Afterwards, upon receiving a pardon for his sins, the Marine walked alongside the unsuspecting priest. The lack of security was perfect. It had all been done in a single swipe. The dagger dug deep against the chest. Spillage was kept to a minimum. Those shocked and condemning eyes shot curses at the culprit, and while words could not form due to the sanguine drowning down his throat, Damocles held down the shaking man.

"You must take comfort in knowing that your sacrifice will bring about justice. Forgive me for my transgressions however, for if it was up to me, I would not sully this floor by your blood." said Damocles as he removed the dagger and allowed the man to plummet down the floor.

Once life faded to oblivion, Damocles prepared the church. The body was laid out at the center. The chandelier was set over the body, hanging doubtfully and rocking constantly. The candles still flicked with gentle flames, yet the Marine, who could attempt to hide, but he figured that if their was indeed a force out to get the people outside, the scent and allure of a fresh corpse would search them out for him. If this was not the case however, their was always the excuse that the priest had ben corrupt and dealt in slave auctioning. By his part, Damocles sat by the ecclesiastical throne with his sword next to him and his boots raised onto of the stoned alter. He wouldn't hide for he did not know what he had to hide from, but did also not have knowledge about whether or not the threat was real, so he might as well take some sense of respite.

(Apologies for the wait)

The man who Angmyre had seen had entered a foundation of hope: church. The place where people pray to nothing in hope for everything. A place where people can cure non-existant physical and mental diseases. One of many places he was going to burn down. There was no God. There was just survival of the fittest. The orange eyes with burning fire within stared down the alleyways, roads and all open paths to see if there was anyone outside at this time. None, it seemed. Angmyre would leap down, landing on his feet perfectly.

The beast known as a Werewolf commonly, was approximately three meters in length. His body was covered in black fur transitioning to white at the ends. His teeth, razor sharp with lusting for blood. Angmyre was hungry.. it had been twelve hours of sunshine between now and his last meal. And, how accordingly, his nose would pick up the scent of blood. Fresh blood. With his extreme hearing, he could hear that there was a heartbeat within the church. That meant whatever happened inside, someone survived.

Angmyre ran inside on four legs like a enormous lion, his thick fur that would draw all attention towards him as he stepped into the light of the candles. Angmyre spotted the source of the scent of fresh blood, and alongside him the same man he saw from atop the church.

''Was this a trap? Hehehe..'' The werewolf would laugh as he raised up from the four-legged stance to the point where he is standing on two legs, towering over the throne in terms of size looking viciously at the man sitting on it.

Damocles laughed at the sight before him. He just couldn't figure out how the hell a thing like this existed. It was ugly and huge, but that was always how he faced his enemies. The beast then stood on it's hind legs, making sure to tower over Damocles who smiled and grabbed his sword. "Not really. Unless you figure that confirming your existence is a trap. I just decided to give you an incentive to come out an play, that is if you existed." said Damocles as he grabbed his sword and prepared himself for the attack. He figured he would have to use his sword for mostly defensive purposes, judging by the sheer size of the beast. Further, it was a given that if logic told him that simple four legged animals ran faster than normal people, than a monster such as this one would be faster than him. His only visible advantage over the beast was the fact he wore armor while the other was bared of such.

Damocles however would first see if their strength match. Therefore after standing up from the throne the Marine bended his knees slightly and pressed his elbows close to his sides, preparing himself for any offensive the monster might throw at him. Furthermore, he came to the conclusion that the beast would most likely perform some sort of lounging attack, but this was of course not certain. Still he had to prepare for the worst so he kept his posture and kept his eyes fixated on the other. "Your move,  bestie."

half reward given, feel free to claim a hit and/or exit