<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#004080"><b>L</b>ance stood, vigilant at the Manor gates. His keen eyes watching the surrounding forest for anything that might seem hostile. Inspecting every trunk, every tree and every flake that fell before him. Daring any of them to challenge his guard, the man simply stood. Veiled in a deep blue cloak, the man awaited whatever should come, until, something did. A dog, Deohgee by the looks of it. Lance knew who the dog belonged to, one of the Manor's werewolves. Kneeling slow, he caught the dog's head with a hand, and gently ran his gloved fingers over the fur. Dogs, served as a good messenger, for both lycan and vampire, for strange connections kept the minds tangled, and the Guardian was quick to let the dog slip inside. <br/>
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<b>A</b> valiant scrape of steel on silver alloy signaled the drawing of his signature weapon. His sword was slung horizontally along his belt-line. Holding the six foot blade easily against him, until he revealed it's sheen. It's body was like a machete / katana hybrid. Wide blade, forged by folding the metal on itself tediously, and incredibly strong for it's metallic make. At the handle, only a thick hook poked, to catch the blade of an enemy's weapon, should it slide down to threaten Lance's fingers. <br/>
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<b>O</b>ff he ran, only a split second behind the sound of his weapon's heralding scrape. Feet pounding the ground silently, as he shot into the night. That long cloak, whipping and dancing behind him, he soon neared the clearing where the werewolf had obviously turned to fight the approaching threat. Donelda, less than a loyal servant of the Manor, yet never the less, it was his duty to protect those who resided there. Seconds trickled away as he closed on the targets, like blood from a dying patient. The opposing figure was a vampire, that much was certain, thus, with a quick hand, he drew a simple flare from his belt. Standard gear for a watchman, a simple device that never failed to catch the attention of their allies. Whipping it's head against the blunt side of his blade, the strange light blinked into existence, burning a signal for help into the night's dark blanket. A flick of the wrist, and the flare flew behind him, quick and true to his throw, it landed between where he now stood, and the manor, yet still outside the gates.</span>