Johny's past

Lost Swords, is the edgy name for single mercenaries, those without a home, or group to call family. I am sad to say I was a Lost Sword for a bit. When I was about sixteen that was when I met Lenx and the stunningly beautiful Jewy. 

I was in the hall of saints, the grand building created in the center of Last Honer. Its purpose is to educate about the dangers of monsters nearby and how much you get paid for killing them. Not that that's why I came, killing monsters was for losers, I preferred smarter targets ones with more reasonable durability. In the smaller groups I was A rising hotshot gifted in killing, not so much with the captoring. Which most would say is harder than killing, I disagree. Having the ability to take a life is the hardest thing I've ever done. I am more than willing to accept a job to kill expressly for the evil, the witched, the deserving, may they rot. Lynx was one of the hits, a wicked man who is out for blood. A trophy of a gang leader, whose head would fit perfectly hanging from a bridge. He may not be one of the highest bosses in Last Honer, but he has risen through the ranks a lot, gaining him a whole lot of enemies in the process. 

He walks through the streets bolder than an elephant, beside him walks a skinny hooded figure. They walk nonchalantly towards the city hall. The hooded figure is to light it's as if they're walking on air, like the hood is levitating, they admit no sound, it feels like if I were to look away there would be no person at all. Lynx is the opposite, his steps are loud and commanding, he moves like border grown legs, those who spot him jump to the ground as if to dodge some nonexistent avalanche. Trailing not too far behind is a unique hat blowing up and down. Wings sprouted from the hat like an angel's embrace, to be more exact the hat is a halo on top of an indescribable face. His face is blank, that is If I were to say more I would be left with a pounding head. The Suit is bland and spooky, hard to describe, the hat tells me he's a man, but that's wrong no one is even there. What was I looking at? Just an average man in a hat, wild that it drew my attention.

"SSSSSSS." A snake hissed behind me.

But that's impossible. I'm ten stories up, no snake can get to the rooftop. 

Behind me stands a hat looking down upon me, as if viewing a lost dog. 

"Hissssssss?"

From my pocket I drew a great sword, the great kinsbane is its name. The sword is made using an artifact, allowing you to recreate a hero's armament from history as long as you have seen and touched it before. Its burning blade is made by mixing a phoenix lungs, the horns of a basilisk, and heart of a giant, making an A grade armament, however by using the artifact it becomes a B grade armament. 

My sword shoots down crashing against the hats raised magic shield, the cut not knowing restraint shattered the shield in two. The magic dissipated into the air. The blade only stops when hitting into the roof. The hat is nowhere to be seen. A thud sounded out over the roof. The symphony of colossal footsteps rushed towards me, each note signaled a growing damned song.

Thud, Thud, Thud. 

Bursting from the smoke comes a giant gifted with mussels but cursed to be ugly. 

The sword disappears from my hand. The big thug moves in for a tackle plunging low. My legs flex imbued with magic, I leap over him. His massive frame go's over the ledge like a falling leeming. 

BOOM.

I would be lucky if that was the end. A hand grabs me by the ankle, sending me falling down to the inevitably hard floor.