"And who exactly are you...?"
Valentine, Fayette and Vera's expressions portrayed the epitome of annoyance and ire.
They went through a bloody battle and three days of lurking in that accursed desert squeezing themselves through the wake of a gigantic worm-like beast that luckily enough, didn't catch them... only to be met by a 'Marques' right outside of the goal.
If this is not a sad joke, what is?
"It seems your ears aren't working properly, I'll repeat myself one last time... I'm Marques Warcroft, the ruler of the Mahogany Devilish City." The man walked lazily with his light golden armour and hair flowing down, leaned against a tree.
His skin is orange, an odd colour indeed and those horns are anything if not intimidating.
"And what do you want, supposed Marques?" Valentine didnt mock but also believed not whatever was told to him on the get go.
To claim oneself a 'Marques' is not something simple.
