The Third Arrival [Open]

The tall young man with the blood red hair and the scars that decorated just about everywhere took his sweet-ass time disembarking from the transport airship. Why, you ask? Simply put, he didn't like people. Waiting until most or all of them had promptly pissed off minimized the interactions he would be directly or indirectly forced into, and, thus, minimized his chances of feeling the need to draw his blade and have at it in the opposition of discourse by moving the S to the front of words-- Translation: Take out his sword and START STABBING PEOPLE IN THE FACE UNTIL THEY DIE TO DEATH. Did I happen to mention that he didn't like people? Additionally, Balthazar was more than willing to bet that there weren't monsters on the front lawn to this place. Which meant there was really no reason, what so ever, to bother rushing off of the transport and into the confused mass of bodies that were undoubtedly gathering before the-- admittedly impressive-- school.

So, instead, the amateur Hunter sat quite idly by, legs loosely crossed, a sizeable, vertically creased piece of paper in his left, gloved hand, until he deemed it appropriate to vacate the gravity defying colossus he had been sitting in for the past few hours. Upon the arrival of said time, Ba'al stood, absently marched straight to the baggage claims, silently encumbered his left shoulder with a large, brown travel pack, and made a bee line through the still surprisingly thick throng of new, and by large clearly awestruck, students. ...Well, not so much bee line for all the bobbing and weaving he needed do in order to avoid aforemention urges to impale a few dozen prickbastards along the way.

All the while, his sea-green eyes never seemed to leave the paper in his left hand as his right hand-- equally gloved-- never left his side; Ever perfectly to instantaneously reach for the ornate hilt poking out over his shoulder. Ready for war at any moment. It was the only way he knew how to live. In his hand, said paper turned out to be one of those overly opulent dust encrusted maps. The sort with touch-based interactions for zooming and scrolling and layering on an otherwise small 'screen'. A map, in fact, to this very school. Balthazar had went to small pains to procure the blasted thing shortly before arriving at the pickup point for the transport. It wouldn't do to get lost in this clearly gratuitously large academy, now would it?

Indeed it would not. And what's more, the surprisingly intelligent young sociopath-- Ba'al, just in case you (yes, you...) didn't take the time to read his bio before you read this-- had already memorized what he estimated to be ninety-three percent of the grounds and rooms of Beacon. ...The ones displayed on the map, at any rate. Who knows what the Hunter's installed within those walls outside the public eye?

As it unfortunately turns out, however, Ba'al did, if indirectly, take his eyes off of the map as he went. For, as he walked past what vaguely appeared to be one young man speaking to himself over by the edge of the path, he noticed one singularly bizarre entity standing in a group of arrivals that, by some miracle, he hadn't already seen at some point on the transport. A pale blue skinned senior citizen with a walking staff. An incredulous expression flicking across his face from it's basic absent disinterest as though changing the channel, Ba'al stared out at the strange man from beneath his creased brow as he continued walking at the same, slightly less than casual pace.

Such a disturbingly unexpected sight threw the jaded arrival into such an uncontrolled death spiral of a loop that Balthazar completely and totally missed the small purple wall of metal.

...Right up until he walked head first, square on into it.

The clap would be audible as bone and a small bit of metal struck metal. The somewhat taller impactee, instantly shaken from his dumfounded reverie, would glance over what, exactly he had just rammed into. Had he channels thirteen and twenty-one as a child, Ba'al might just have suspected he'd barreled over Barney the dinosaur. But that clearly wasn't the case. This guy was... decidedly more shiny. "Well... that happened." he said in a conversational volume with his distinctly Irish-- or whatever excuse for Irish Vytal happened to possess-- accent.

Eyes of such stark contrast to his blazing hair stayed on the purple wall as it stood back up from a crouch. An interesting getup; The man looked like he was ready for war. His weapon seemed rather plain, however. Despite his appearance the shorter, armored student-to-be didn't seem to be all that aggressive. He brushed off the impact with a laugh. Hmm. Still, Balthazar was most certainly not the sort to be cordial, so he remained quiet as a plethora of other people walked up to him. The blue man, a red-eyed milk drinker, and a midget with a metal arm....

'This place certainly attracts a load of freaks, eh?' Ba'al thought with a raised left eyebrow as his head swiveled about, taking the people surrounding him. Looking first from the purple armor, to the blue geezer, back to the purple armor, back to the blue geezer, then to the metal hand this David was extending to him, then to the blue geezer again. To both the purple armor with the spear and the fully grown smurf with the staff, he, quite plainly, to both of their statements, "Quite."

Flicking his head left once more, his slightly bewildered gaze moved from the metal hand, to the child equipped with it, to the... strawberry milk, and back to the child. "Leavin'." is exactly who he was at this particular moment in time. And with a deft, circuitous shuffle of his left foot, he circumnavigated the robotic arm, slipped just past the spear, and promptly marched off at the same pace he had been moving at when the whole run in had occured.