The day was profound and unlike any other. The town bustling as usual, with the occasional severe silence that perturbed the ideal that there was always shady dealings going on in this grand expanse of architecture and populace. From the very entrance, to the always busy markets, to the residential and commercial districts. Even the barracks and walls of the locale itself were all busy in some form or another.
But one such soul, does not belong. One not of this realm, who has been encountered yet again by the ill-boding folk that seek to drive their pain and lack of tolerance on others.
Said soul, is the soul of the last being of his kind, and only a young boy at the age of eleven at that. A boy of lean build, sharp and wary carmine/crimson red eyes, sun-kissed lightly tanned skin, and the most vibrant and natural blue hair you'd ever see in a realm where none of this belongs. His energy presiding a lack of innocence and a hidden hurt and rage deep within.
His breathing ragged as he runs in between the shallow and bewildered folk of the market, bumping past people and making them drop belongings or give a perplexed look. Some even losing their patience and joining the row of wild and angry brigands who follow as close behind as they can muster.
"Get that little bastard in-human! He's a thief and a vagabond!" Says the biggest one, who is clearly losing ground. Obviously the leader meaning to call out to his more fortunate and much more agile subordinates.
Racutio would only scoff and run faster. "I'm not a thief, you stupid clown! You guys stole it to begin with, you filthy grumbling bandits! You all can kiss my ass!" He'd say crudely, making the leader angrier.
"Get that kid! The boss wants that prototype back!"
Racutio would press forward, and shoot around a corner, cornering himself in a dead end behind an old derelict building. Elevation too high on either side to climb or wall-run to the rooftop. "Tch...Damn, guess I'm stuck now..." He'd turn around, and he's instantly surrounded by all twelve full-grown men, fully armed and weapons drawn.
"Always with the prejudice against in-human beings, wherever I go..." He'd only sigh, keeping his weapon sheathed under his cloak. He'd shrug at them and shake his head. "Is a special crossbow really worth all this trouble, gentleman? Is it really worth killing a child over?!" He'd say this loud enough to get most of the over-watcher's attention. All the guards however, turning a blind eye, due to the factor in-human's don't deserve protection of the town guard. Many of the shoppers and merchants all gather behind the group, watching them close in on the boy in the alley. He'd only smile, not even taking a step back.
"Cocky little bastard, aren't you boy?" Says the leader, as he shoves his men aside, cracking his thick muscular neck, and standing a good several feet above Racutio. The young man would only cock his head to the left and smirk. "Says the giant lump trying to intimidate a young guy like me. What are you, a thief and a pedophile? You really have no shame, you bandit types."
"WHAT'D YOU SAY YOU LITTLE SCUMBAG?!" He'd reach back and draw his huge war-sledge off his back, hefting it for a swing. "I'll crush you you little bug! Screw the prototype! Nobody mocks me publicly and gets away with it!"
His men would stand behind him, making a defensive line and blocking either of them from leaving the dead end, and each making retorts about their boss and how screwed this kid was. Racutio had all of this in account, as his eyes would begin to glow dimly under his leather hood, and he'd only grin. "I'm going to enjoy this way more than any of you will..." He'd say this, and take stance, holding firm as he places his feet firmly down, grounding himself and ready to take anything and everything they have to muster. His eyes moving rapidly and statistically counting every weapon, every soul, and the intent of those around him. "You aren't the one who's going to kill me, however..."
Appearances:
The following are how my character looks, what he is wearing, and what he is wielding.
First picture is his size, his hair style, and how he stances himself frequently.
Second picture is what his eyes look like, especially when they glow, making him look twice as in-human as he already does naturally.
Third picture is his armor, though it shouldn't be near as extravagant nor as large as it is in the picture, due to the factor he is young in this. But it's the gist of what it looks like, and what he is wearing.
Fourth picture and everything else are the many forms of his family sword, and primary weapon of choice, Mar'tal, The Mar'tallian Soul Heir sword.