General Sam

"D O l Y A l L I K E l M E M E S?"

A circle of blood and smokey red light writhes into existence; a horribly trill and unnatural sound piercing the forest air and its exotic brand of silence. From within the pitch black center of that dark and soulless void, a figure cloaked in white and grey rises. With a solid marbled mask of amber and yellow, the figure stands, and the circle evaporates into the air as if it had never been present at all.

“Alright, got my falchion and my...where’s my chime?” The man asks aloud, turning around in place. “Could’ve sworn I had my chime on me when I started to invade.”

After a moment of walking around searching for his missing belonging, the masked man shrugs and draws his sword. “Oh well. I guess I forgot to bring it.” He concludes, turning towards a faint but familiar sound.

The growling of a beast.

The masked man backsteps on well honed reflex as the creature launches itself at him like a mountain of orange and red death, its powerful jaws snapping shut where his throat had been a second previous. "Host must've seeded me like a bitch."

“Oh ho ho miyazaki, fucking manticores now? What next, medusa?” He shouts in a playfully inquisitive tone as the beast begins to circle him.

With the speed of lightning the manticore pounces once more, but the man simply rolls underneath it and backsteps once more, slipping his left hand into the gaurd of his trusty buckler shield. “Thats right motherfucker, I’m too fast for your jumping attacks.” He taunts, moving towards the mythical predator until there is but a mere foot between them.

“Swing baby, swing!” He yells in the beast’s face demandingly.

The manticore’s deadliest weapon, its insanely powerful scorpion tail, flexes and strikes downwards at the challenge with its curved tip poised to kill.

The masked man stands his ground, and just as the tip of the tail moves over the head of the beast, he swings the small metal shield gripped in his hand to the left and bats the stinger away with ease. “Get fucking parried idiot!” He laughs as the creature falls back, stunned by the maneuver.

Still laughing, the masked man walks up to the prone manticore and plunges his sword straight into the monster’s abdomen, putting a well armored boot against the slain beast to aid in the withdrawal of it. “Ha, Oroboro for parry king 2017!” He declares, sheathing his weapon and turning towards a small ray of light stabbing through the dense forest. “I’ll bet that’s where the host will be hiding. Better get going if I’m gonna beat his ass too.”