Dorian Pearce
Name: Dorian Pearce
Alias: N/A
Hasn't acquired an alias or any nicknames, up to this point.
Age: 33
Gender: Male
Profession: Hunter
Beliefs:
Years ago, Dorian considered himself an atheist. However, with demons and Babel sprouting up around the globe, it's difficult to say there is nothing out there. These days, Dorian considers himself an Agnostic Theist- meaning that he's unsure what kind of gods there are, but he's sure there is some all powerful being sitting back, eating popcorn and watching the world go to hell.
Appearance:
Overall, Dorian would be considered quite attractive, by human standards. While he isn't nearly on par with the beauty of the angels, or certain demons for that matter, he is handsome nonetheless.
Clocking in at 6'0" and 170LBS, he is a fairly average male specimen, at least on the outside.
Dorian has a wiry musculature that suits his form quite well. It is not the hard, overly large musculature of a body builder, or the toned physique of someone who regularly works out. Rather, he has the lean muscles of a working man, someone who has worked their whole life to get what they want.
More often than not, Dorian can be seen dressed casually- tshirts, jeans, maybe a jacket. However, he cleans up very well, on the rare occasions that call for a suit or tux. Sometimes he can be seen wearing hats, but those are rare occasions. Judging by his overall attire, it is obvious that he prefers darker tones.
Dorian alternates between keeping a short, neatly trimmed beard, and going clean shaven. In all honesty, he does not have a preference. Although, these days, he tends not to spend as much time grooming, due to having more important matters to attend to.
However, on the few occasions that his beard does start to grow out, it is an obvious sign (to those who know him) that he has been stressing over something.
Note: Dorian's eyes glow a beautiful shade of blue, when he is utilizing his powers.
Personality:
Dorian is a smart ass, to put it simply. He's sarcastic and has a very dry sense of humor, but he's a nice guy. Dorian is a little rough around the edges, so it takes a minute to warm up to him. Some may think he's an asshole, but others find him to be a loving guy with a big heart and a penchant for helping those in need- it's all a matter of perspective.
Dorian's jokes are generally a defense mechanism, to keep those around him at a distance, rather than letting them get close. The less people he cares about, personally, the less he has to lose.
Alignment:
Dorian is a good guy. Despite his inner voice advising him against it, he tends to help those who are worse off than himself.
Regardless of the consequences, even in a post apocalyptic world riddled with demons and Babel, Dorian has a firm grasp on his moral compass.
Likes:
I would say that Dorian likes long walks on the beach, parties, beautiful sunsets...but he's not that type of guy. Dorian tends to take a hard left turn away from anything that the majority likes. He's never been a fan of beaches, they're too hot. Sunsets are overrated, and parties are terrible. Dorian likes the simple things in life- good friends, good food, good music, and peaceful time to relax.
Above all, he likes having something to focus on, whether it be a mission or something else- anything to keep his mind off of the current state of the world and the losses he's suffered.
Dislikes:
Demons. Demon kings. Babel. Does that count? Dorian has a deep seated hatred for those that ruin the world around them, for their own gain. He dislikes people who are dishonest, especially when it results in someone else getting hurt. Sure, keep your secrets...but not if someone else's life depends on it.
Dorian has always disliked crowds, parties, anywhere where he is forced to interact with a large mass of strangers. He doesn't trust people, and for good reason. They don't deserve his trust, not until they've earned it.
Strengths:
Magic- Dorian, like most humans, has not had access to supernatural forces (i.e. magic) for very long; however, he seems to be a natural in its use. He mostly deals in primal magic...fireballs, lightning bolts, gusts of wind, etc. Used for offense and defense, when needed. He has also picked up a bit of reality warping magic. It is used for picking/melting locks, softening a landing from a fall, etc. Convenient for utility, mainly.
Note: Primal Words of Power- Fuego/Ignis (fire), Ventus (wind), Fulgur (lightning), Mundus/Terra (earth), Glacialis (ice), Aqua/Unda (water)
Hand To Hand Combat- Dorian has trained in several different forms of martial arts.
Excellent Marksman- Dorian has spent many years honing his skill with firearms, crossbows, bows, and thrown weapons (knives and whatnot). He's a proficient sniper, but is also skilled in the use of handguns and automatic rifles.
Weaknesses:
Mental- While Dorian is adept in several forms of magic, he has never been able to grasp mind control. Due to his lack of skill in the area, he is susceptible to mental intrusions (at the GM's discretion).
Tactical- Although Dorian is fairly well-rounded in the various areas of combat, he lacks the mind of a tactician. He is good at thinking on his feet, but in depth strategies don't come easily, they are much better coming from someone else's lips.
Social- Due to his dry sense of humor and overall attitude, Dorian can be seen as standoffish, or rude even. He takes some getting used to. Dorian tends to make bad first impressions, though if he is given a second chance he may be able to repair whatever damage was done during the initial meeting.
Fears:
Losing his loved ones. (crippling)
A slight fear of abandonment.
Becoming the monsters he seeks to destroy.
Backstory:
What is there to say about Dorian Pearce? Where do I start? Hell if I know. The beginning, maybe?
Funny. Why don't you start off with some questions, and I'll fill in the blanks.
Umm...okay. Was he an angel? Ha! Hell no, wrong direction.
A demon? Eh...getting closer, but not quite.
Human, then? A man? I imagine so...or something similar, at least. Dorian was a Hunter, something between human and not. If you say so.
Okay, I've got it. I know where to start... sit back and listen. Okay, but... I said listen, not interrupt me. FINE.
~o~
Dorian Pearce, son of Amelia and Jackson Pearce, was born into a world riddled with war and strife. But...weren't we all? Shh, I'm talking.
Dorian was born into an age of technology, a world that relied on convenience, everything delivered on a silver platter at the push of a button.
His early years were normal enough, having been raised by two loving parents in the safety of a family home, until the age of ten. But, you know how these things go, right? Of course... Of course.
Tragedy struck the child, without warning, without cause. Dorian's parents, his home, his life...were all lost in a fire. He was left with nothing, no one. Survivor's guilt is a terrible thing for a child to face alone. Naturally. Otherwise, he would've gone through life happy, thinking nothing was wrong with him. Who would want that? Naturally.
Having no close relatives that wanted him, Dorian was tossed head first into the deep end of foster care. Too old for most adopting families to want him, and too young to go out on his own, Dorian was stuck in that hell hole for eight years, bullied by the older kids and shunned by those his age. Eight years? Eight years.
On his eighteenth birthday, Dorian left the home, but was unsure on how to start his life. Obviously. Should've asked his parents. Oh, wait. Obviously. Like many young adults who have no idea, no money and no direction, he headed straight to the military. Wait, wait, I know this one. A soldier, sailor and airman walk into a bar- Not now.
Dorian spent the next five years in the army, including boot camp of course. Of course He didn't get to see much action, but he had the training, the direction he was looking for. Dorian had finally found a sense of purpose in his life. Confidence was something he had lacked his entire life, but he'd finally found it. Yeah yeah, real touching. You're rambling.
Fine, we'll skip ahead. You know the Demon Lord? Personally? No. You know what I mean, smart ass. Yeah, okay. Anyways? It wasn't long after that five year mark that the world was launched into chaos by demons and Babel. You're babbling right now.
Dorian was still just a kid...a big kid, but a kid nonetheless. He wasn't ready to face those beasts. Mama's boy. No, daddy's boy? Ah, nevermind, they're dead anyways. So, he went AWOL. He ran? He ran.
He ran. He hid, for years, letting other people fight the good fight, dying for their cause. After a while, he couldn't take it anymore. He came out of hiding. Doubt it. Sounds like a pansy.
Dorian managed to get his hands on some magic. Well, he managed to get his hands on someone who was willing to teach him how to use magic. It was a rare gift. Speaking of gifts, my birthday's coming up and there's this-
After learning the ways of the primal forces, Dorian set out to hunt demons. Of course, he wasn't good at it...at first. But after several lost battles, his mentor having to pull his ass out of the fire, he learned from his mistakes. Lame. Shh! I'm almost done.
Years later, after hundreds of battles, Dorian became quite a hunter, but the same could not be said of his mentor. She was lost in one of their many battles, burned to a crisp. I could go for some barbecue right about now...
Eventually, roughly nine months back, Pearce joined a group called the 'Organization'. Not much is known about the group, but rumor has it that they're attempting time travel. Hmm...let's watch. Maybe something interesting will happen...finally. Maybe. Doubt it. This guy's a disposable support character at best.
I really wish you'd shut up. And I wish I cared.
Writing Sample:
"Distance?" Pearce asked the young woman beside him, as he peered through the scope at his target. Dorian waited for a moment, expecting an answer, but didn't get one. Sighing, he looked to Liz, an obvious look of irritation plaguing his rugged features. "Distance?" He asked again, a bit more forcefully.
Liz let her binoculars drop, catching on the strap that held them around her neck. Glancing to the older man, she frowned. "Why does it matter? The bullet won't hurt it. That's one of the first things they teach you in the academy." She replied, a bit of sass in her tone. "Must be forgetting shit, in your old age, gramps," she added on.
Dorian's eyes rolled so hard, they nearly hit the roof beneath them. Up in their perch, staring down at a demon, and the girl was worried about the Academy? Dorian sighed. "The Academy teaches you how to do things the safe way, I'm trying to teach you how to do things the right way," he snapped back, peering back through the scope at the beast down below. "Now, distance?"
The younger ones tended to be a little more hard headed than Dorian's generation, at least he thought as much. They were reluctant to learn. Fresh out of the Organization's Academy, they thought they knew it all. And that's exactly how several of them ended up dead. The Academy was there for a reason, to teach those who wished to learn how to fight demons, at least as much as possible. Some could use magic, some couldn't. Liz was one of the few.
Although, for all of the Academy's lessons, there were certain things that were easier to learn through experiencing it. The general rule was that mundane weapons such as blades, guns and bows couldn't damage a demon. There was always an exception to the rule, when magic was involved.
Grumbling to herself, Liz looked through the binoculars once more. Dorian couldn't see her rolling her eyes, but he could feel it. "Three...no, three and a half clicks," she finally answered, a sigh of exasperation accompanying it.
And that was it. That attitude...that was the reason Dorian had never had, or even wanted to have kids. Sure, babies and toddlers were cute, but once they got old enough to talk back... Dorian feared that any child he had wouldn't live to see adulthood- whether it be killed by a demon, or strangled by his own two hands for one smart ass remark too many.
Dorian took in a deep breath, in hopes of calming his nerves. Liz had a way of getting him worked up, killing his mood. But he couldn't help but to like the kid. She had spunk. She reminded him of himself, when he was younger.
"Watch and learn, kid," Dorian commanded the girl as he adjusted his sights, preparing to fire. Liz looked to him, noting his position, noting that he was aiming a little high. "You're off your mark," she commented, before looking back through the binoculars at the monstrosity below.
Ignoring the comment, Dorian steadied his breathing and his hands, and then... CRACK! The sound of a high powered rifle echoed through the valley below, as the round traveled toward its mark, a little high as Liz had noted.
The next part would take precision, even moreso than the actual shot. Glowing, blue eyes locked in on the bullet, time slowing just a bit as Dorian took focus and voiced one single word. "Fulgur," the word left Pearce's lips, barely a whisper, but carried a lot of weight behind it.
Milliseconds before the bullet would have missed its mark, a small, pin point bolt of lightning fell from the sky, connecting with the round. The impact changed the trajectory, sending it further down, as the violent magic coursed through the metal, infecting every fiber of the round.
Dorian glanced to the side, taking in Liz's reaction, as the bullet hit its mark, the magic laced bullet easily piercing the head of the beast and exploding through the back, lodging itself in a nearby tree. Lightning still spurting from the bloody round, Liz's jaw dropped. Frowning, she looked to Dorian. "Cheater," she accused.
The hunter smirked. "You didn't say anything about not using magic," he replied. "Now, pay up," he finished. Sighing, Liz looked through her binoculars one last time, noting the position of the demon's corpse. "Fiiiiiinnnnneee," she snapped, dropping the binoculars and slipping her hand into her pocket. Pulling out a twenty, she dropped the bill into Dorian's waiting hand.
Smiling, Pearce stuffed the cash into his pocket and slung the strap of the rifle over his shoulder, letting it rest there. Offering Liz a hand, he helped her to her feet. "Now, you have to clean this mess up," Dorian said. "And what will you be doing?" She asked. "Supervising," he said, laughing.
Liz grinned at the hunter. "Fine, fine," she chuckled, and started heading for the door that lead down into the building. "By the way, not a bad shot," she commented. "Thank-" Dorian started. "For a fossil," she finished.
A small smile graced Dorian's lips as he fell in step behind the girl, eyes flitting about every so often, watching for any potential threats. She sure as hell reminded him of himself.
Alias: N/A
Hasn't acquired an alias or any nicknames, up to this point.
Age: 33
Gender: Male
Profession: Hunter
Beliefs:
Years ago, Dorian considered himself an atheist. However, with demons and Babel sprouting up around the globe, it's difficult to say there is nothing out there. These days, Dorian considers himself an Agnostic Theist- meaning that he's unsure what kind of gods there are, but he's sure there is some all powerful being sitting back, eating popcorn and watching the world go to hell.
Appearance:
Overall, Dorian would be considered quite attractive, by human standards. While he isn't nearly on par with the beauty of the angels, or certain demons for that matter, he is handsome nonetheless.
Clocking in at 6'0" and 170LBS, he is a fairly average male specimen, at least on the outside.
Dorian has a wiry musculature that suits his form quite well. It is not the hard, overly large musculature of a body builder, or the toned physique of someone who regularly works out. Rather, he has the lean muscles of a working man, someone who has worked their whole life to get what they want.
More often than not, Dorian can be seen dressed casually- tshirts, jeans, maybe a jacket. However, he cleans up very well, on the rare occasions that call for a suit or tux. Sometimes he can be seen wearing hats, but those are rare occasions. Judging by his overall attire, it is obvious that he prefers darker tones.
Dorian alternates between keeping a short, neatly trimmed beard, and going clean shaven. In all honesty, he does not have a preference. Although, these days, he tends not to spend as much time grooming, due to having more important matters to attend to.
However, on the few occasions that his beard does start to grow out, it is an obvious sign (to those who know him) that he has been stressing over something.
Note: Dorian's eyes glow a beautiful shade of blue, when he is utilizing his powers.
Personality:Dorian is a smart ass, to put it simply. He's sarcastic and has a very dry sense of humor, but he's a nice guy. Dorian is a little rough around the edges, so it takes a minute to warm up to him. Some may think he's an asshole, but others find him to be a loving guy with a big heart and a penchant for helping those in need- it's all a matter of perspective.
Dorian's jokes are generally a defense mechanism, to keep those around him at a distance, rather than letting them get close. The less people he cares about, personally, the less he has to lose.
Alignment:
Dorian is a good guy. Despite his inner voice advising him against it, he tends to help those who are worse off than himself.
Regardless of the consequences, even in a post apocalyptic world riddled with demons and Babel, Dorian has a firm grasp on his moral compass.
Likes:
I would say that Dorian likes long walks on the beach, parties, beautiful sunsets...but he's not that type of guy. Dorian tends to take a hard left turn away from anything that the majority likes. He's never been a fan of beaches, they're too hot. Sunsets are overrated, and parties are terrible. Dorian likes the simple things in life- good friends, good food, good music, and peaceful time to relax.
Above all, he likes having something to focus on, whether it be a mission or something else- anything to keep his mind off of the current state of the world and the losses he's suffered.
Dislikes:
Demons. Demon kings. Babel. Does that count? Dorian has a deep seated hatred for those that ruin the world around them, for their own gain. He dislikes people who are dishonest, especially when it results in someone else getting hurt. Sure, keep your secrets...but not if someone else's life depends on it.
Dorian has always disliked crowds, parties, anywhere where he is forced to interact with a large mass of strangers. He doesn't trust people, and for good reason. They don't deserve his trust, not until they've earned it.
Strengths:
Magic- Dorian, like most humans, has not had access to supernatural forces (i.e. magic) for very long; however, he seems to be a natural in its use. He mostly deals in primal magic...fireballs, lightning bolts, gusts of wind, etc. Used for offense and defense, when needed. He has also picked up a bit of reality warping magic. It is used for picking/melting locks, softening a landing from a fall, etc. Convenient for utility, mainly.
Note: Primal Words of Power- Fuego/Ignis (fire), Ventus (wind), Fulgur (lightning), Mundus/Terra (earth), Glacialis (ice), Aqua/Unda (water)
Hand To Hand Combat- Dorian has trained in several different forms of martial arts.
Excellent Marksman- Dorian has spent many years honing his skill with firearms, crossbows, bows, and thrown weapons (knives and whatnot). He's a proficient sniper, but is also skilled in the use of handguns and automatic rifles.
Weaknesses:
Mental- While Dorian is adept in several forms of magic, he has never been able to grasp mind control. Due to his lack of skill in the area, he is susceptible to mental intrusions (at the GM's discretion).
Tactical- Although Dorian is fairly well-rounded in the various areas of combat, he lacks the mind of a tactician. He is good at thinking on his feet, but in depth strategies don't come easily, they are much better coming from someone else's lips.
Social- Due to his dry sense of humor and overall attitude, Dorian can be seen as standoffish, or rude even. He takes some getting used to. Dorian tends to make bad first impressions, though if he is given a second chance he may be able to repair whatever damage was done during the initial meeting.
Fears:
Losing his loved ones. (crippling)
A slight fear of abandonment.
Becoming the monsters he seeks to destroy.
Backstory:
What is there to say about Dorian Pearce? Where do I start? Hell if I know. The beginning, maybe?
Funny. Why don't you start off with some questions, and I'll fill in the blanks.
Umm...okay. Was he an angel? Ha! Hell no, wrong direction.
A demon? Eh...getting closer, but not quite.
Human, then? A man? I imagine so...or something similar, at least. Dorian was a Hunter, something between human and not. If you say so.
Okay, I've got it. I know where to start... sit back and listen. Okay, but... I said listen, not interrupt me. FINE.
~o~
Dorian Pearce, son of Amelia and Jackson Pearce, was born into a world riddled with war and strife. But...weren't we all? Shh, I'm talking.
Dorian was born into an age of technology, a world that relied on convenience, everything delivered on a silver platter at the push of a button.
His early years were normal enough, having been raised by two loving parents in the safety of a family home, until the age of ten. But, you know how these things go, right? Of course... Of course.
Tragedy struck the child, without warning, without cause. Dorian's parents, his home, his life...were all lost in a fire. He was left with nothing, no one. Survivor's guilt is a terrible thing for a child to face alone. Naturally. Otherwise, he would've gone through life happy, thinking nothing was wrong with him. Who would want that? Naturally.
Having no close relatives that wanted him, Dorian was tossed head first into the deep end of foster care. Too old for most adopting families to want him, and too young to go out on his own, Dorian was stuck in that hell hole for eight years, bullied by the older kids and shunned by those his age. Eight years? Eight years.
On his eighteenth birthday, Dorian left the home, but was unsure on how to start his life. Obviously. Should've asked his parents. Oh, wait. Obviously. Like many young adults who have no idea, no money and no direction, he headed straight to the military. Wait, wait, I know this one. A soldier, sailor and airman walk into a bar- Not now.
Dorian spent the next five years in the army, including boot camp of course. Of course He didn't get to see much action, but he had the training, the direction he was looking for. Dorian had finally found a sense of purpose in his life. Confidence was something he had lacked his entire life, but he'd finally found it. Yeah yeah, real touching. You're rambling.
Fine, we'll skip ahead. You know the Demon Lord? Personally? No. You know what I mean, smart ass. Yeah, okay. Anyways? It wasn't long after that five year mark that the world was launched into chaos by demons and Babel. You're babbling right now.
Dorian was still just a kid...a big kid, but a kid nonetheless. He wasn't ready to face those beasts. Mama's boy. No, daddy's boy? Ah, nevermind, they're dead anyways. So, he went AWOL. He ran? He ran.
He ran. He hid, for years, letting other people fight the good fight, dying for their cause. After a while, he couldn't take it anymore. He came out of hiding. Doubt it. Sounds like a pansy.
Dorian managed to get his hands on some magic. Well, he managed to get his hands on someone who was willing to teach him how to use magic. It was a rare gift. Speaking of gifts, my birthday's coming up and there's this-
After learning the ways of the primal forces, Dorian set out to hunt demons. Of course, he wasn't good at it...at first. But after several lost battles, his mentor having to pull his ass out of the fire, he learned from his mistakes. Lame. Shh! I'm almost done.
Years later, after hundreds of battles, Dorian became quite a hunter, but the same could not be said of his mentor. She was lost in one of their many battles, burned to a crisp. I could go for some barbecue right about now...
Eventually, roughly nine months back, Pearce joined a group called the 'Organization'. Not much is known about the group, but rumor has it that they're attempting time travel. Hmm...let's watch. Maybe something interesting will happen...finally. Maybe. Doubt it. This guy's a disposable support character at best.
I really wish you'd shut up. And I wish I cared.
Writing Sample:
"Distance?" Pearce asked the young woman beside him, as he peered through the scope at his target. Dorian waited for a moment, expecting an answer, but didn't get one. Sighing, he looked to Liz, an obvious look of irritation plaguing his rugged features. "Distance?" He asked again, a bit more forcefully.
Liz let her binoculars drop, catching on the strap that held them around her neck. Glancing to the older man, she frowned. "Why does it matter? The bullet won't hurt it. That's one of the first things they teach you in the academy." She replied, a bit of sass in her tone. "Must be forgetting shit, in your old age, gramps," she added on.
Dorian's eyes rolled so hard, they nearly hit the roof beneath them. Up in their perch, staring down at a demon, and the girl was worried about the Academy? Dorian sighed. "The Academy teaches you how to do things the safe way, I'm trying to teach you how to do things the right way," he snapped back, peering back through the scope at the beast down below. "Now, distance?"
The younger ones tended to be a little more hard headed than Dorian's generation, at least he thought as much. They were reluctant to learn. Fresh out of the Organization's Academy, they thought they knew it all. And that's exactly how several of them ended up dead. The Academy was there for a reason, to teach those who wished to learn how to fight demons, at least as much as possible. Some could use magic, some couldn't. Liz was one of the few.
Although, for all of the Academy's lessons, there were certain things that were easier to learn through experiencing it. The general rule was that mundane weapons such as blades, guns and bows couldn't damage a demon. There was always an exception to the rule, when magic was involved.
Grumbling to herself, Liz looked through the binoculars once more. Dorian couldn't see her rolling her eyes, but he could feel it. "Three...no, three and a half clicks," she finally answered, a sigh of exasperation accompanying it.
And that was it. That attitude...that was the reason Dorian had never had, or even wanted to have kids. Sure, babies and toddlers were cute, but once they got old enough to talk back... Dorian feared that any child he had wouldn't live to see adulthood- whether it be killed by a demon, or strangled by his own two hands for one smart ass remark too many.
Dorian took in a deep breath, in hopes of calming his nerves. Liz had a way of getting him worked up, killing his mood. But he couldn't help but to like the kid. She had spunk. She reminded him of himself, when he was younger.
"Watch and learn, kid," Dorian commanded the girl as he adjusted his sights, preparing to fire. Liz looked to him, noting his position, noting that he was aiming a little high. "You're off your mark," she commented, before looking back through the binoculars at the monstrosity below.
Ignoring the comment, Dorian steadied his breathing and his hands, and then... CRACK! The sound of a high powered rifle echoed through the valley below, as the round traveled toward its mark, a little high as Liz had noted.
The next part would take precision, even moreso than the actual shot. Glowing, blue eyes locked in on the bullet, time slowing just a bit as Dorian took focus and voiced one single word. "Fulgur," the word left Pearce's lips, barely a whisper, but carried a lot of weight behind it.
Milliseconds before the bullet would have missed its mark, a small, pin point bolt of lightning fell from the sky, connecting with the round. The impact changed the trajectory, sending it further down, as the violent magic coursed through the metal, infecting every fiber of the round.
Dorian glanced to the side, taking in Liz's reaction, as the bullet hit its mark, the magic laced bullet easily piercing the head of the beast and exploding through the back, lodging itself in a nearby tree. Lightning still spurting from the bloody round, Liz's jaw dropped. Frowning, she looked to Dorian. "Cheater," she accused.
The hunter smirked. "You didn't say anything about not using magic," he replied. "Now, pay up," he finished. Sighing, Liz looked through her binoculars one last time, noting the position of the demon's corpse. "Fiiiiiinnnnneee," she snapped, dropping the binoculars and slipping her hand into her pocket. Pulling out a twenty, she dropped the bill into Dorian's waiting hand.
Smiling, Pearce stuffed the cash into his pocket and slung the strap of the rifle over his shoulder, letting it rest there. Offering Liz a hand, he helped her to her feet. "Now, you have to clean this mess up," Dorian said. "And what will you be doing?" She asked. "Supervising," he said, laughing.
Liz grinned at the hunter. "Fine, fine," she chuckled, and started heading for the door that lead down into the building. "By the way, not a bad shot," she commented. "Thank-" Dorian started. "For a fossil," she finished.
A small smile graced Dorian's lips as he fell in step behind the girl, eyes flitting about every so often, watching for any potential threats. She sure as hell reminded him of himself.