Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-11588669-20140219023248/@comment-11588669-20140222054450

He twisted below and bisected another mech at the waist, drawing an explosive knife from the bandolier around his thigh as he did so. He dodged another, and slammed the knife home in its chest. Winter stepped around the lumbering swing, and kicked it into a group of its comrades. The knife detonated, sending shards of shrapnel in all directions. He used another Android to absorb the shards.

The mercenary smoothly drew his techknife out, and with the same motion sent it thudding into an Android's faceplate. His blade flashed in dizzying arcs and spins, each removing something. Then, abruptly, he shortened the grip and swung in brutal motions. Yet, while seemingly unrefined, they still flowed into that dance of death he performed so well. Chainguns roared, and Winter stepped to the side, drawing his own firearm and discharging it into the mech's leg. The large caliber round blew the limb off, and the Android dropped to the ground, rounds spraying into its comrades.

He continued walking in that gentle pace, Nightfall held in hand. Any time an android approached, it was met with a simple motion. A stab into the chest, or a slash across the throat or stomach. Any at range were shot or manipulated into shooting their comrades. And soon, nothing but smoldering wreckage remained.

He was suitably unimpressed. Rolling his eyes, he turned to leave the training field. One of the mechs reached out to him as he passed. A ruthless shot from his pistol made sure it couldn't do it again. Holstering the weapon, he found a spot, settled down, and began to clean his sword from all the oil.