The promise of food immediately brightened his day. It appeared that even if the owner got mad and threw him out, he would still manage to get food. His opinions of the two helpful women suddenly became very positive.<br/><br/>That when things started getting scary. As Oliver stumbled to his feet, idly clutching at his aching side, a strange man entered the building. His robes of white and silver armor were distinct, but not as distinct as the red cross over the manâ€™s chest. He recognized him as one of the Knights Templars, the skilled soldiers endorsed by the Catholic Church. While what he had been taught about the Templars was all about them being noble and strong and doing Godâ€™s will, the few that he had met had been assholes.<br/><br/>Sister Annette told him not to call them that though.<br/><br/>So Oliver stood back, partially hidden by the Blood Folk girl, and observed him warily. But suddenly a Wolf Man threw himself at the Templar, snarling about vengeance. An abrupt arc of silver sliced through the air, blinding Oliver with the speed it flew. Something heavy and wet thumped to the floor, followed by the Wolf collapsing to the ground limply.<br/><br/>Oliver strained around Alice, trying to get a closer look. His expression wasnâ€™t one of horror or disgust, but of a mildly twisted curiosity. Blood seeped from the body, soaking the wooden floor, and probably dripping into the cellar below. Bone was visible in the center of the stump that had once been a neck. The severed head lay a foot away, eyes still open and glassy with rage.<br/><br/>The horrified silence that followed was deafening. The Templar commanded everyone to go about their business, which some did, albeit nervously with harsh whispering. Oliver also noticed many fleeing quietly out the front and back entrances.<br/><br/>Voices and more ruckus pulled his attention away from the gory sight of the dismembered wolf man and toward the open door. It seemed there was a fight ensuing in the alley next door. Oliver peered at the faces of both of the women near him. He decided he would stand up for both of them in that moment. He was more than capable, after all.<br/><br/>Suddenly the owner of the tavern burst from the kitchen. â€œWhat the<span style="font-style: italic">hell!</span>â€ He screamed.<br/><br/>Oliver winced at the volume. He sounded like a shrieking woman.<br/><br/>â€œWhat happened here?! Thereâ€™s a freaking werewolf on the floor! Who did this?!â€ The man demanded. He was met with silence and fearful stares. All who remained in the bar wondered whom to fear more: the Templar or the owner. It seemed everyone was leaning toward the former.<br/><br/>Fearlessly, Oliver stood up straight, in full view now that he was no longer behind the brunette woman. He raised a hand and pointed at the Templar, whom acted as if nothing had occurred. He was rewarded with the sight of the ownerâ€™s blanch and nervous swallowing. The man didnâ€™t seem so inclined as to push the issue.<br/><br/>â€œUhm...Frank, come get rid of this. Boy, you too.â€ He mumbled nervously before making a hasty exit.<br/><br/>Oliver watched the busboy, Frank, swallow and make his way toward the corpse. Nodding once, he looked at the girl named Alice quickly before shuffling toward the body, still awkward from his minor injuries. Frank did away with the head, leaving Oliver to struggle with the massive body. He considered using air to just push it out, but really it seemed like more effort than it was worth. Magic drained him far more quickly than physical labor did, and he was running on no sleep and no food.<br/><br/>With a huff of resignation, he helped clear away the body and left Frank to clean up the blood. â€œBury it or something. I donâ€™t care, just get rid of it.â€ Frank had said before leaving him with a shovel.<br/><br/>Under the night sky again, it was dreadfully dark and cold. The warm glow of the tavern barely touched where he was. He swallowed nervously, wondering if he would be able to do such a trying task. He was so tired... Instead, he inched toward it, holding his hand up as if to push something away. He took a deep breath and held it.<br/><br/>Flames suddenly burst from his hand, seeming to originate from his palm, but not really touching it. It burst forth, torching the crumpled body and catching it on fire in a matter of seconds. It let up a plume of disgusting smelling smoke and the boy wrinkled his dirty little nose and backed away. He wondered idly if he should return to the tavern, and upon receiving another waft of crispy werewolf flesh and burnt hair, he decided to head back.<br/><br/>Slipping back inside through the back door, he wondered if Frank had vomited yet. He had been looking rather green while carrying out the head. He shuffled back over to wear his spot was, spotting the vampire girl again. He made a beeline for her and stood with his hands on his hips with a serious expression. When she met his eyes, he said abruptly, â€œMy name is Oliver.â€