Warfare Chronicles

Scenario 1

I walk down the alley way.

My hand instinctively hovers over my katana as I hear a slight disturbance in the supposedly abandoned building up ahead.

I proceed extremely quietly over to the door and grip the handle with a sweaty palm.

I push open the door and feel a cold chill shoot down my spine.

I smile because I know that's my brain signalling me silently that a battle is about to go down.

I unsheathe my katana when I hear a sound coming from the west side of the warehouse.

I pivot and spot 3 figures, armed with ancient weapons, marching toward me.

I grin when I see the weapons on strapped on their bodies. I glance at my katana and my grin widens further because that's the only weapon I have brought with me to fight these men.

The 3 soldiers stop about 13 feet from me. I notice the engravings on the hilts but decide to ignore my urge to laugh because the engravings can very easily transferred to different blades and when that happens, the power and strength from the original blade will be sucked up and delivered to me.

The first man steps forward with 2 viking swords raised.

I run my finger over my own blade with a smirk and take a moment to survey my first pathetic opponent.

Bald, muscular, scars on every patch of skin. Typical 'bad guy' in every movie.

He releases a manly battle cry and charges like a Rhino who just got his horn sawed off.

I casually jump out his sword's path and wonder where he got such a rare weapon. Time travelling scums. I'll be taking those swords home with me as a token of my victory soon enough so I'll inspect the cutter later.

The man turns to me and tries to charge again and stupidly enough, he ducks his head like a bull and I simply bring my katana down and take his ear off.

I love to play with my prey before I unleash the beast.

"You fucking BITCH!" The man screams as he clutches the place where his ear used to be.

I see the buckets of blood pouring from the wound I inflicted upon him.

I lick my lips because there is nothing like the taste of your enemy's juices on your mouth and hands.

I take a step in his direction and, before he knows what I'm doing, his hand comes clean off.

At this point, the man is in such pain I have an urge to lick some blood from his severed hand that I decide to and pick up his body part off the ground, lift it to my mouth and turn around so I can have my moment with the only thing I can ingest.

"You disgusting pig! How could you cut off 2 pieces of me then continue to drink the gore you made?!"

I don't reply because I want to see his face when he sees my fangs spring out and puncture his jugular vein and drain his meat sack of vital fluid.

"I'm talking to you, you fuck! LISTEN WHEN I SPEAK."

I spin around as my knuckles meet his jaw and his is flown 5 meters away from me.

I stroll over to his body and bring my mouth to his neck and drink like a camel in the desert until his body is a pile of flesh and bones.

I grin and wipe my bloodied mouth on my shirt and stroll over to the second man in the line of people to be exterminated.

Tall, fat, and hairy as fuck.

The man pounces on me with impressive force for an obese person.