Arador
A raven-haired man stood on the edge of a building, gazing down on the calm people of the city. It was his first visit to a human society in nearly ten years, he had almost forgotten the diversity and joyfulness of the odd creatures. Then he heard something. Struggling. Pain. He stealthily scaled the edge of the 40-ft high building and looked down. Now he remembered why he never resided here. In the dark alley, a feeble business man was being pinned to a wall and bludgeoned by a couple of thugs. One thug was digging through the poor man's suitcase while the other guy pulled his necktie and suffocated him tauntingly.
Arador reached for the hand scythe strapped to his bicep and drew the crescent blade. Hooking it on to a gutter, he glided down using the gutter as a sort of rail. His feet touched onto the ground lightly and he drew his intricately designed cutlass. Spinning it sharply, he sliced through the eyes of one thug totally blinding him. While he screamed and poured out blood, Arador swung his blade in the other direction. It narrowly went through his ribcage, but Arador made sure not to kill the man- he wanted him to suffer a slow death. Jumping up, he grabbed them by the necks and threw them into the wall so hard that it knocked them out. Making sure the business man didn't get a good look at him, Arador used his hand scythe to swing back to the roof tops.