[Pyrus, a white wolf, walks up the steps to the porch, dawned in his leather armor, corked glass vials filled with liquids of different color rest in easy to access places on the outside of his armor. He peers threw a black lose fitted hood, and a gas mask, the lenses seem to glow a sickly green. It is connected to a tank on his back, painted black, with pouches containing certain items. A mace dangling from his left hip, a hunting knife on his right.]
[He bangs on the door three times then opens the door, letting himself in, his mask making auditable noise, every so often, a small bit of smoke escapes the exhaust port]
"I hear there is hunts going on.. I'm here to hel-"
[His eyes catch Erik]
"Ahhh tovarishch, how do you do?"
[Pyrus glances tward the supposed owner]
"Where are my manners? I am Pyrus. Seasoned alchemists and master at alchemical warfare. At your service"
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