He'd never thought of himself as a history enthusiast, for several reasons, the main being the most obvious one ...
... it was hard to be enthusiastic about things you've actually had to live through ...
... despite which, or maybe because of which, he was one of the first to realize what was actually going on.
Hard as it was for him to actually believe it. Then again, he'd seen enough weird things during his life to not dismiss such out of hand.
Jigoku's sake, he'd been one of those weird things.
Well, not so much been, really. That implied he wasn't. The fact that he was still standing, rather than lying on the ground, bleeding from the katana slash that had almost taken an arm off before he'd snapped out of the disbelief-induced stupor, told a different story.
For the tenth time, he checked. The city was still behind him. And the rapid _shift_ in landscape ... well, from where he was standing, despite the hill not being all that large or high, it looked like the whole accursed district had been ...
Transplanted. Yeah, that word fit better than most.
He sighed, straightening his slashed up coat and grumbling at the need to get another one soon. The good thing about so called 'modern' times, in his opinion, had always been the fact that you rarely had to fight someone with a weapon that left your clothes in tatters by the time you were done. Guns, he thought, were far more neat and tidy, and exit and entrance wounds were far easier to conceal and easier on the clothing.
Oh well.
It looked like he'd need to brush up on some old skills.
Stashing various looted weapons away on his person felt oddly ... nostalgic.
He didn't know if it was a good or a bad nostalgic, though.
With another mournful sigh, the person who'd been dubbed the 'hundred man murderer' started his trek back towards the far-off skyline, away from the bodies of several samurai and their horses as well as the wreck of his car (he'd been on the very edge of whatever it was had happened and managed to hit a tree when it was over and done with and he'd run out of road).
He wondered whether he could get his hands on a kimono with a manji symbol on the back, just for old times' sake.
Because he's Manji. I like the character, and he's handy like that. Just either have him still working on his 'evil men' quota or say Yakobikuni lied to him about the Kessen-chu expiring after he'd fulfilled that self imposed goal.
Also, despite being from a few hundred years after the 1500's, he'd likely still have more knowledge about the mundane ways things worked in ye' old Japan than Inu-Yasha and Co' would - since they deal mostly with youkai and their ilk.
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm
... it was hard to be enthusiastic about things you've actually had to live through ...
... despite which, or maybe because of which, he was one of the first to realize what was actually going on.
Hard as it was for him to actually believe it. Then again, he'd seen enough weird things during his life to not dismiss such out of hand.
Jigoku's sake, he'd been one of those weird things.
Well, not so much been, really. That implied he wasn't. The fact that he was still standing, rather than lying on the ground, bleeding from the katana slash that had almost taken an arm off before he'd snapped out of the disbelief-induced stupor, told a different story.
For the tenth time, he checked. The city was still behind him. And the rapid _shift_ in landscape ... well, from where he was standing, despite the hill not being all that large or high, it looked like the whole accursed district had been ...
Transplanted. Yeah, that word fit better than most.
He sighed, straightening his slashed up coat and grumbling at the need to get another one soon. The good thing about so called 'modern' times, in his opinion, had always been the fact that you rarely had to fight someone with a weapon that left your clothes in tatters by the time you were done. Guns, he thought, were far more neat and tidy, and exit and entrance wounds were far easier to conceal and easier on the clothing.
Oh well.
It looked like he'd need to brush up on some old skills.
Stashing various looted weapons away on his person felt oddly ... nostalgic.
He didn't know if it was a good or a bad nostalgic, though.
With another mournful sigh, the person who'd been dubbed the 'hundred man murderer' started his trek back towards the far-off skyline, away from the bodies of several samurai and their horses as well as the wreck of his car (he'd been on the very edge of whatever it was had happened and managed to hit a tree when it was over and done with and he'd run out of road).
He wondered whether he could get his hands on a kimono with a manji symbol on the back, just for old times' sake.
Because he's Manji. I like the character, and he's handy like that. Just either have him still working on his 'evil men' quota or say Yakobikuni lied to him about the Kessen-chu expiring after he'd fulfilled that self imposed goal.
Also, despite being from a few hundred years after the 1500's, he'd likely still have more knowledge about the mundane ways things worked in ye' old Japan than Inu-Yasha and Co' would - since they deal mostly with youkai and their ilk.
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm