[LocoColt04]

This is only the first half of what was supposed to be a two-post introduction. Unfortunately, because the roleplay had died off before it even started, I never had the chance to post the second half. It's archived somewhere on my old laptop, so I'd have to fire up that beast and do a lot of searching if I expect to find it. For now, however, here's the first half.

It's rather direct, and quite action-packed. For an RP intro, it's got a heavy emphasis on fighting. What can I say? That's always been my style. ^_^;;

Anyway, I'm not sure why I'm posting this aside from the sake of sharing.



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Seven of them this time?! Shit.

He tightened his two-handed grip on the katana as he slowly turned full-circle, counting the assailants. He'd brutally disembodied three of their comrades; hadn't they gotten the message? These idiots were beyond saving, and his primal bloodlust was craving more manslaughter. None of the seven men made a move toward him. They merely stood around him, casually toying with their weaponry. A voice came from the rooftop above.

"So you're the one called Tiger, hmm? That was quite a show you put on earlier. Two women and a man, ripped to pieces, much like a tiger. How noble of you. Let me tell you how unimpressed I am. Novices, all of them. Yet they forced you to put up quite the fight, did they not? Thomas Hurst, prepare to die."

Never once did Thomas remove his eyes from the circle of men. The figure above scoffed at his confidence, and motioned for the attack. He disappeared into the rooftop entrance, leaving the murder of Thomas Hurst to his henchmen.

Thomas winced as the chained flail whooshed dangerously close to his head. Stooping without a second thought, he removed his left hand from the katana and withdrew a throwing knife from his boot, hurling it in the direction of the flail. A sickening crack was heard, and the subtle vibrations of a large body hitting the ground could be felt. Thomas rose to his feet, and turned to his left. The knife had lodged itself square in the middle of the burly man's forehead; a mixture of blood and brain matter slowly began to seep from the thin slit.

The remaining six men broke the circle, huddling together in front of Thomas, wary of his every motion. He shifted uneasily as the men whispered to each other, unsure of whether he should rush in slashing or wait for them to make a move. The cold brick courtyard beneath his feet called for more bodies; the full moon above hid from the carnage behind a thin layer of storm clouds. Evil was brewing.

As the air thickened, the situation remained at a stalemate. Thomas knew he couldn't go after his target without dealing with the henchmen; the henchmen knew they couldn't exterminate the mercenary without casualties. Thomas' left hand found the lower half of the katana's obscenely yellow handle once more. With a deep breath, he calmed his nerves, stepping toward the men just meters away. At the sound of the first step echoing through the empty courtyard, the six men leapt into action. Placing the job above his life, Thomas thrust the katana forward into the leg of the man wielding identical daggers. Pulling back, he spun to his left, bringing the katana back around to the man's left arm. Before he could sever the limb, a heavy broadsword intercepted the katana. Thomas kicked as hard as he could with his left leg, knocking the swordsman into the lone oak tree. The swordsman slid to the ground as focus returned to the man with the daggers.

In his place stood another man holding a bamboo staff. A dagger slashed across Thomas' right bicep; by reflex, he whirled to the right, slicing through the neck of his attacker. The severed head, still blinking, fell to the ground, rolling into the body of the burly man. Before the body even wavered, Thomas had shoved his katana through the torso, using it as a shield from the axe-wielder behind him. A blow to the back of the head from the staff knocked Thomas to the ground. As he fell, he dropped the katana and removed two more throwing knives from his boots, keeping them from sight. He remained motionless on the ground for a few moments as the chaos around him ceased.

The footsteps of two men flooded his ears; his longbow was beginning to dig into his spine. When the movement stopped, he could feel the breath of a man on his neck. Sensing Death's scythe looming above, Thomas rolled toward the unknown man, slashing across the heels with the knife in his left hand. As he opened his eyes, the man with the staff fell to his knees, unable to stand. Thomas shoved the bloody knife into the right lung of the trembling man. Immediately, the man let out a deafening scream that was so repulsive, Thomas felt he had no other choice than to force the knife in his right hand through the man's larynx. As the vocal cords collapsed, the man began coughing up blood. Thomas left the knife and rose to his feet once more, leaving the wretched man to die in agony.

Rushing footsteps from behind alerted Thomas of another attacker. He stepped to his left moments before impact, locking the right arm of the swordsman in his own. Thomas tightened his grip, slowly crushing the delicate joint of the elbow. The axeman, who had stepped away for a moment to catch his breath, now ran toward his ally. Thomas snapped the arm of the swordsman and kicked him backward and, in one motion, he ripped his longbow from the straps on the back of his vest. In the blink of an eye, an arrow had left the quiver and found its place in the bow.

By the time the axe-wielder had mentally processed the scene before him, an arrow had impacted his diaphragm. Two seconds later, another found its way into his right forearm, forcing him to drop the axe onto the headless body of the man with the daggers. Another sickening crunch could be heard as the head of the axe crushed the lifeless spine of the corpse. A third and final arrow cleanly ripped through his jugular, and the blood began to pour like a fountain. He collapsed into a heap on the ground.

Thomas affixed his bow to his back and retrieved his katana from the corpse in front of him. He walked over to the swordsman, who was cringing in pain on the ground, and poked him gently with the katana. The swordsman's pleading looks met apathy in Thomas' slate gray eyes. As he dragged the tip of the katana down the man's chest and over his stomach, Thomas had a change of heart. The katana slid back up and over the swordsman's heart; a bit of pressure was applied, and the breath stopped.

The sound of applause startled Thomas. He turned around, facing the remaining two men. The taller man had a set of nunchaku, and the shorter carried a pair of sais. He had completely forgotten about their presence.

"How valiant of the heartless Tiger to spare the man from suffering," the tall one scoffed. The short man also chuckled at the remark, and Thomas stood silent.

Obviously the least moronic of the bunch, I'd say...