The Wendigo of the North, the Captain of the Guerrilla Shieldguards, the Aegis of the Infected, the Champion of the Reunion movement. These were the many titles bestowed upon the last pure-blooded Wendigo, Buldrokkas'tee. In all his life had he only...
"Ehhhhh...." A blonde-haired man sighed as he flicked through the next page of his newspaper. Sitting on an empty bench in the middle of the main road, he didn't mind the several stares he garnered from the townsfolk who huddled inside their homes, too afraid to even take a step outside. Besides him, a cane leaned at the bench's backrest, fashioned with beautiful, dark leather embroidery.
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"Mommy? Why is that scary man just sitting there..." A child asked behind their front door, with her father peeking through it. Yet, just as the father and mother could answer, something loud crashed on their roof.
Grimm.
Dozens upon dozens glared at the man. Ursas, Beowolves, and many more species of Grimm hungrily eyed the man, their signature red glares matching the now reddening night skies above. Yet the man did not care, his sights still focusing on his evening papers as one by one, allowing the Grimm to slowly approach him with curiosity about his inactivity.
Yet there can only be so much to be done by reading the evening newspapers when an entire horde is right in front of you. And so the man finally relented, sighing as he calmly folded his paper and rested it on the bench.
"I don't remember allowing you monsters to trespass into this village..." He muttered slowly as he stood up, hands simply hovering just between his hips, his coat opening slightly to reveal two handguns, one golden, the other silver.
And so the two parties stood in silence, the growls of the Grimm softening as a hint of hesitation and confusion were cast onto each other, wondering why the man was-
BANG!
A single bullet obliterates a Grimm from the backlines, smoke clearing out of the man's pistols, having drawn them from their holsters with speeds faster than the eye can see. The twin pistols were heavily engraved, with the silver one depicting a small army of knights pointing their weapons, while the golden one depicting a stampede of horses, both engravements pointed towards the muzzle.
"Fine. Let me start." The man explained as the single shot awakened the ferocity of the Grimm. The closest Beowolf promptly charged forward, swinging its claws only for the man to simply jump back onto the bench and explode the beast's head with another pistol shot. He then jumps once more, this time high above the horde as he unloads a rain of bullets on the masses.
With a twirl, the man lands graciously in the middle of the destruction he caused, standing on the bodies of the fallen Grimm.
Flicking open his coat once more, he swiftly knees an approaching Grimm by its jaw, causing two magazines holstered between his trouser cuffs to fly upwards. The man then begins to spin his two pistols, shooting out the spent magazines towards the eyes of two more rampaging Ursas, and catching the new magazines mid-flight.
