<div class="floatleft">(http://img.csfd.cz/files/images/film/photos/158/304/158304905_7952d4.jpg)</div><div class="floatleft"><strong>Character Name/Alias</strong>: Koschei Romanov, Peter (Alias)<br/><strong>Wearing</strong>: Cloth pants and bandages around his fists to prevent injury; wearing no shirt.<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Northern Continent, Russia<br/><strong>Current Action(s)</strong>: Going out of his house, participating in his 'stress reliever'<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: none<br/><br/><hr/><br/>He needed a breather, something to relax him, make him ease his tense muscles after remembering such horrible things. It always seemed nowadays that anything could make Koschei remember his past, and right now, it was some he'd much rather forget at the moment. Finishing the fruit in his hand hastily, Koshchei picked up a small object from the side table next to him; a wand, about ten or so inches, carved and crafted with intricate and beautiful detail, unlike other wands which were just twigs and sticks from trees. Taking the magical instrument, he gave a quick mutter of a spell, as quick the clock chiming the next hour, and tapped it against his broad chest. In an instant, his clothes began to form around his skin, an all black suit, made of the finest material the Western Country could import; silk material stitched to perfection, with matching black tie, shined leather shoes, and even a small lapel pin that clipped to the tie itself.<br/><br/>His family's crest, still haunting him, never unable to escape him.<br/><br/>It was strange, Koschei wished to be rid of this house, the memories of his family, everything, yet wearing a suit like this, he was a spitting image of his father. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a steel gaze that could unnerve someone by giving a mere glance; it was something unsettling, making Koschei ever wonder if he would ever truly be out of his family's shadow. His eyes glanced towards a rather large scale painting on top of the Foyer's fireplace, consisting of only his mother and father; words that he always said in disdain. Their painted eyes stared down at him, every moment he walked, did anything really; he didn't want to admit that it unnerved him, because he knew that they were long gone and dead, having killed them himself and stuffing the bodies in the deepest parts of the Mansion. Bodies had littered the mansion, blood stains everywhere, but they were all gone, all gone now that Koschei had control of things. Pulling a large black coat over his body to protect him from the cold, he gave a quick wave of his hand to shut the large front doors behind him, before turning back to look at the Mansion after he had walked a few feet away from it, his cold, blue eyes taking in the view of the house.<br/><br/>He was so tired, so weary, he had almost thought he had seen his parents from one of the topside windows of the second floor, looking at him through the windows silk curtains.<br/><br/>"<em>Cave Inimicum</em>." With his wand pointed towards the home, he gave the instrument an intricate wave, before a large sphere, transparent as it rippled around the Mansion, shone briefly, before disappearing before his eyes. A protection spell, to protect his home in case any intruders or uneducated lot tried to break into his home; he would be alerted at any given time if such a thing were to occur, and would use a transportation spell back to his home to take care of any trouble. Taking one last look of the house, he gave another wave of his wand, before his body was suddenly shifted, and with the location in mind, was now not in front of his home, but now in the midst of a bustling town, filled with people. A transportation spell that came in handy, it was something that Koschei mostly used sparingly; after all, it was a spell he created himself. Making his way down the cobbled brick streets of the town, he couldn't help but continue to hear mutters and talking of what had happened back in the desert areas, of a Kingdom sinking overnight.<br/><br/><em>"It doesn't have anything to do with you Koschei."</em> He would say to himself, his hands in his pockets as he made his way towards a shabby looking building of sorts, an abandoned tavern that had a sliding eye window at the front of the door. Walking over to it, he knocked on it twice, before the small window was opened, revealing a pair of steely red eyes, boring into Koscheis. <br/><br/>"Password." The voice was burly rough, nothing resembling human, and apparently not in the mood to play games, as it's tone was demanding.<br/><br/>"Nocturne Alley." The door's window was immediately shut as the front door swung open, letting Koschei inside to find many people within it's apparent shabby walls. Humans were the normal lot to see in such a place, mostly men with betting streaks that wished to try their hand at gaining some extra coin. However there were other forms of life around though not many; vampires, mages and witches like himself, even trolls, which had happened to be the guard that had let him in. "Peter, you finally made it!" An older man, much older then Koschei, came over with a smile, inviting yet still holding an ounce of slime to it; a con man that gambled his life savings every time he came here. "You ready to win? I already got a third of my money on you."<br/><br/>"I'll be down there shortly." No one knew who he really was here, and Koschei kept it that way, wanting an outline to let off steam; it was the only way he could, rather then rot away in his home. No one cared who he was, or how he was feeling, only that he beat his opponent to a bloody pulp and win the match did they care.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Down the stars below, a makeshift ring with a circle of wooden barriers kept Koschei and his opponent inside, a large Orc, as the crowd screamed and cheered for the two to keep going, the two at it for two hours, neither backing down. The Orc had little to few scratches on him, while Koschei has a large bruise on his side, spitting out some blood from his mouth as he gave a heavy breath, his hair ragged from the sweat that came off him. The Orc came rushing in full swing but Koschei moved out of the way in time, giving a few jabs towards the Orcs body as the giant yelled, but wasn't in too much pain as of yet. Sizing up his opponent, Koschei could see that at his hip he had a scar, something resent, something he could use. Taking a quick side step as the Orc ran at him once more, almost making the building around them shake, Koschei gave a harsh jab towards the Orc's scar, the monster howling in pain as he fell to one knee. His only chance to strike hard, Koschei reeled back, and in a harsh rush of strength, knocked the Orc back with a powerful punch to his jaw. His hand was bloodied for sure, but the Orc, he could do no more, and feel to the ground, knocked out, defeated. The crowd was stunned, almost silent other then a few labored breathes from Koschei, spitting out another helping of blood from his mouth before he walked out of the ring, eyes on all him before he pulled the betting money from the Coordinator's hands, taking the cut he was given before tossing a handful of the coins to the unconscious Orc nearby him. He took a shot glass that was filled with whiskey for a gentleman that had paid, but seeing Koschei's serious gaze the man backed off, Koschei downing the alcohol as it burned his throat in the most delicious of ways. He made his way up the stairs, having his fill for the day, sitting alone in the bar top above, wiping blood off himself.<br/><br/>His parents would be appalled to see their son participating in such a dangerous, vulgar sport. That it was unbecoming of himself and their family name to do such a thing, to bet their money away, to fight other only to end up battered and bloody. They would say that he should be using his magic, practicing to become one of the greatest ever. <br/><br/>He already knew he was one of the greatest wizards in the Western Continent, of his homeland. <br/><br/>He didn't give a damn with what his <em>dead parents </em> thought, their opinion no longer mattering considering the circumstances.<br/><br/>Shaking his head to wipe away the sweat that rolled down his neck, he ordered the bar keep to give him more whiskey, having to even speak in accented english for the man because he seemed so terrified of Koschei's appearance. Taking the whisky once more he downed it, not caring about the eyes around him. </div>