A gust of wind, a chill in the air, the smell of burnt tobacco. The door creaked open, a man stepped in, his face covered by a black and gray shemagh, wrapped around his face, concealing all but his dark red eyes. Strands of midnight black hair poked their way out from beneath, falling across his pierced right eyebrow, a scar leading down from the left. He wore a black leather duster, the bottom reaching all the way to the ankles of his black combat boots, a spike protruding from the heel of each. Tracing upward along his legs he wore dark blue jeans, holding tight to his legs. At the waist, a holster on his right and a scabbard on his left, hanging from a black studded belt, cracked and worn. The holster holding an original colt 1911, silver, with black pearl handle inlays, and in the scabbard, a wakizashi, the hilt made of ebony, although it appeared to be damaged and ancient.
A clawed hand reached up to the shemagh, pulling it away from the mysterious man's face, his hair billowed down past the shoulders of the six-foot-four stranger. His skin was dark, no doubt from his years of traveling. A long, scraggly beard covered his face. Streaks of red and blonde randomly zig zagging through the dark tangle. His ears were visible from beneath the mass of darkened silk upon his head, the pointed tips poking out vividly. From his nose, which appeared to have been broken several times, hung a septum ring, black. Snake bite piercings poked out from lips, the rings cradling his grin, canine like fangs gleaming from within. He was ruggedly attractive, the scar that started at his left eyebrow going all the way down past his lip, his most defining feature.
He stepped forward, heavy boots thudding on the floor as he walked, the door slamming behind him of its own accord. He looked wild, feral. The duster billowed behind him as he walked, his weapons clinking slightly against his waist, and whatever was inside of his pockets. In the blink of an eye, his duster was removed, twirling behind him as he threw it across his shoulder. Beneath it was a black Kevlar vest, pouches full of ammo strewn across it. Below, a black t-shirt, the sleeves cut off. Ancient symbols were tattooed all over both of his arms, forming sleeves, all inked with his own black blood. Quickly, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a hair band and tied his hair back into a ponytail, pulling it away from his ears. A two inch tunnel at the bottom of each, with various piercings climbing to nearly the top of both. A few more steps and he had reached the main bar, a sigh escaping his lips.
200
200
200
