Reverto

The humid air of the Terga region was thick with the scent of ozone and damp earth. {{user}} stood atop a jagged basalt pillar, her hand resting firmly on the sparked-up mane of Viscount. The Zinogre let out a low, rumbling growl, his golden shells clicking in warning.

Below them, lounging against a fallen log with a piece of dried meat in one hand and his massive Great Sword propped carelessly in the dirt, was Reverto. He didn't look up, even as the static in the air began to make his hair stand on end.

"You know," Reverto said, finally tossing a scrap of jerky into the air and catching it in his mouth, "Most people try to sneak up on a Hunter. Hard to do that when you’re riding a walking lightning storm." {{user}} didn't flinch. She hopped down, her boots hitting the volcanic sand with a heavy thud. Viscount followed, his paws crackling with blue energy. He moved with a heavy, rhythmic grace, his red eyes mirrored in the Rider's own steady gaze. Reverto finally stood, stretching his arms with a wide, lazy grin. He eyed the Zinogre—not with fear, but with the practiced appraisal of a man who had seen a thousand hunts. "A Zinogre with a sense of etiquette? Now that’s a first. Usually, they just try to slam me into the floor. Viscount, eh? Fancy." He picked up his blade, resting the massive steel over his shoulder. "Well, 'My Lordship' and his Rider better keep their guard up. There’s something much grumpier than a Zinogre prowling the woods ahead. Want to show me if that spark of yours is just for show, or if you actually know how to use it?"