Welcome to Gaia! ::

The stone path crunched so softly beneath his feet as he moved along the campus grounds toward the library. He was certain that the answers he was seeking were in there. Reaching into the old scarf swathed around his neck, the hellhound retrieved a small notepad just bigger than his hands (and his hands were relatively large). On the page were scribbled notes and quick sketches of minis he had encountered in the area, seen with other students, and even of his own collection. A single red spiral like a brushstroke or a carving into stone. The symbol has shown up many times and he never understood them but had some inklings of ideas. In fact, some students shared resemblances to the same symbol-bearing minis. If it were not for his own intentions, and lack of social-abilities, he never bothered to ask them. Being a first year and learning the in's and out's of the Amityville campus, he wasn't going to stick out too much from the group just yet. The pages were consistent, each with individual minis he had encountered and a page detailing their habits, appearances to the minute detail, and the location of the mark, if it was visible.

The quest for this knowledge stumbled upon sighting a pack of Inaris that Fraust had encountered with his pack. Concerned for the well-being of his friend, he tagged along for the encounter. Five of them total; each different in appearance yet none bore the mark. From what he could tell, the one with it held the lowest rank of the group and partook in none of the squabble and growls between the two groups. Perhaps it is an uncommon thing around here, but he was certain to try to find out a bit.

Since arriving on the campus, however, he only saw a few people regularly and that was only due to class. There was one female he had met at the Scarentine festival that seemed familiar, but his finger was never on exactly from where. Met her again not too long ago at a potion's class. His social skills have a lot to be desired. Being raised in a stuffy home with servants that always agreed with you (unless distinctly told not to by your parents), left very little room for growth. Hopefully, here will change that.

Putting the notepad back into his scarf, he went on inside.

Books upon books from ground to ceiling of shapes, sizes, color, and binding. Topics too. Students were wandering here, and the soft scuffles of feet and books moving and pages flipping made the building seem so eerily quiet, but comforting. People were focused. Not exactly knowing where his topic would lie, he figured he would wander and familiarize himself as he went.

His fingers traced down the bindings of books; Wars Raged of Demons, Manipulation and You, Into Oblivion; the Memoirs of A.C.Deathrattle, interesting titles of different genres. Perhaps he shall come back later to peruse the rest of the topics. When his fingers traced down the letters of Poms and Behemoths, Tarts, and Pygmies, he found himself in the proper aisle of a topic he found interest in - not that he would admit it unless asked about. However, even though the tomes here were of minis, he was uncertain if the books would have the topic that he was specifically looking for. Still, he continued down the line, looking at the titles so that he may return for them later. Some he took into his arms to read when he got back to his room. Pet care, feeding habits, behavior patterns, things he felt he should be familiar with given the lot he had.

As he continued down the line, he noticed a girl sinking into her seat off a ways. A sniff of the air and the scent was identified.

"Maple?" He uttered, his deep voice deepened by his scarf. He made his way over to the girl at the table, confident that she was the female he had met a few times before.

He watched as she tried to make herself less... conspicuous but, in fact, she made herself that much more noticeable with that small scene. His ear swiveled as she slid and bumped her head. She seems very timid, perhaps wanted to not be noticed by just about anyone. Tucking the books beneath his arms, he came up closer and noticed that she was forcing back a frown. Well, he couldn't say he was put in that sort of situation before...

"We have met, once or twice." He remarked. But at the same time, he felt like he had seen her face long before that. However, he didn't know if he could bring that up just yet. She seems far too timid for it. With one arm cradling the books, his other, large hand extended as an offer. "It's Uru'baen."

"I haven't seen you since... Potions class."

The demon cocked a brow as she spoke. She was not only timid, but even her social presence reflected the behavior.

"It was a tough class," even he had a hard time working with it. The first task was extremely difficult for him. Instead of raising the temperature, he found himself going in the opposite direction. That's what he gets for being a cold-elemental user, he suppose. But the other tasks took some finagling. Granted, he didn't talk too much. "I managed."

With the mention of the books, he looked at the few in his possession. "Researching a symbol I've been noticing." With his free hand, the hellhound reached up into his scarf and retrieved the small notepad and offered it to her. "I've been noticing it among a few of the local minis. Where I am from, I have never seen it. One particular reason is that a group of these have been having confrontations with my own as of late."

Placing the books down onto the table, he took the notepad back and flipped through the pages of notes. The symbol was usually red or black if it was present on an individual and tended to be in a leftward spiral and it only made a full cycle once. What was more interesting was the type of minis that were around the individuals with the marking usually wore feathers or drapes or skulls or some sort golden silk. He was hoping to find the answers here.

"Yeah..."

His ears perked up when he heard about her confrontations. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at her over his scarf.

"Confrontations? About what, Maple?"

It was the proper man in him, to come to the rescue of a female (even if she didn't want him to).

"Grumpkin kings?" He questioned. They were a species he was currently working with as of late and many of them, like the female had said, were quite territorial. They were called 'kings' for a reason, he suppose. He thought about it more and more as he felt the female's gaze on him. Placing the spiral designed notebook back into his scarf, he pulled out another notepad, this one beaten and worn. Flipping it open, he moved through the pages.

"Grumpkin kings are a species of Grumpkin. However, these ones in particular, are a second generation that is spawned from the Pom Behemoths. Which, are territorial themselves. It is within their nature, I assumed. However, the lot I have came with have been tamed, for the most part, when given boxes. Then again, that was how they were found." The hellhound offered the book of a few sketches of some Grumpkin Kings within their boxes. Also on the page were a few notes on feeding habits, behavior observations, and grooming advice. "However, mine are also territorial and do cause problems. I have a few other pets of mine to keep them in line to minimize the damage."

Turning to one of the books - Territories of Minis; The Geographical Guide - he came to a page about the Pom Behemoths and some of their behaviors. Though, very little on the Grumpkin Kings.... they seemed like a recent discovery. Still, he flipped through to allow the female to take in the information and formulate her own ideas.

He observed her behavior, made mental notes, but said nothing of it. Perhaps it was just her nature, it was just how she was. Or was his presence causing discomfort for the little female? He pondered the idea as he glanced from the pages of the tome before him and the female beside him. To him, he was sharing his knowledge of what he observed from his own pets. To her, he was probably rambling off on some facts she probably already knew. Reaching into his scarf, he pulled out a bone-shaped snack and placed it between his teeth.

"I have fifteen of them under my care. I have a Soul Crusher watching over them, and so far, they haven't done too much damage. I have been finding boxes in the nearby junkyard, that seems to keep them content." The hellhound reached back into his scarf for another treat, and this one was placed into the hood behind him. "I can't say that my method would work for anyone else, but it is just something I've noticed from my group."

There was something else on his mind - aside the territories of the red spiral pets and the complications with the Grumpkin Kings, and it was that he felt that he knew this girl from way before he came here to Amityville. Perhaps...

"Say, Maple. Have we met before? I mean before classes and such." If the question was out of left field, he wasn't sure what else could be. His hetero-chromatic eyes watched her with curiosity.

Uru had recalled the times he had encountered the little female; the Scarentine Festival, during a class here and there, he could have sworn he saw her at one of the trips to the human world as well. But he felt that he had seen her long before that, before the human world, before Amityville, and before the Scarentine month. He closed his eyes and sunk his head into his scarf in deep contemplation. A dream of a sort that he recalled. He recalled it much easier after he had written it down in one of his notes, but that book was not with him at the time. He tried to remember. Darkness all around him that even the shadows seemed to move with every glance - every blink. He wondered if this was a world in itself. The hellhound considered the figures that he saw and noticed that some around the campus shared the similar shape... but that was pure coincidence, right?

But Maple was different. Her face structure, her height... but her personality was much different. She was timid as this, she was more outgoing, adventurous... perhaps Maple had a twin or it was just a dream. But was it worth mentioning?

He looked at he for a moment to fit the shape of his memories to this little female. "A world of shadows." he muttered under his breath. "Was Scarentine the first we've ever met? At the dart booth with the balloons."

Uru was beginning to wonder if there was some sort of divining class.