Calling Candidates

With expert precision, I hurled my sword upward and clashed with the blade of my opponent, throwing them off balance. With cruelty in my glowing eyes, I span around my opponent's broken guard and drew my blade across the back of their knees, twirling about once more in order to slice their head clean off. I looked over my shoulder to see how my companion was holding up- and he was not doing too well. School of the Cat was never good for open combat. 

"Need some assistance here!" He cried, waving his sword across three opponents, his mutant speed the only thing keeping him from being skewered. I ran forward, catching one of his targets off-guard, and performed a pirouette, slamming my sword into his neck. Roughly jerking him downward, he fell to the cold earth, blood gushing out of the fresh cut in his neck, and his companions backed up. My comrade was panting hard, but nonetheless kept his blade raised.

"What took you?" He complained, "I was getting my ass handed to me!"

"Well. You know." I shrugged, casually pointing my head to the platoon of fully armored soldiers I left in a pile of corpses. "Got a bit tied up."

My companion shook his head, and we stared at the two soldiers that remained. We looked to each other, nodded, and pushed forward, taking one soldier each. My own opponent was winded- a defender, carrying a massive wooden shield and sword. He was already weighed down by his armor, and the strain of trying to match my companion's blade had taken its toll. Regardless, the fascist warrior taunted on. "Come on, freak! Let's see if you're as quick as your little boyfriend!"

With a grin, I pushed my palm outward, making a brief sign with my fingers- the soldier, seemingly recognizing my intent, raised his heavy shield. A blast of telekinetic force erupted from my palm, but the soldier held his guard. He kept his guard even when I slammed my armored shoulder into his shield. Once, twice, thrice. Finally, the soldier timed his attack, and just as he assumed I was to slam into his shield again, he pushed outward- 

Only to catch air. I had anticipated this, and twirled my blade around so that the tip would face the earth. In a single motion, I thrust my blade through the chainmailed bracer that covered my opponent's shield arm, quickly twisting the sword and pulling away as he screamed in pain. He dropped his shield, and looked up, keeping a firm grip on his sword. Nothing was stopping me, however- I ran my blade fast and forward, right between the eye slits of his armor, piercing the soldier's brain and killing him instantly. 

My target was dead. I turned to see how my comrade was doing, only to launch into a sprint, to try in vein to stop the soldier from skewering my companion through the heart with his spear. I was too late- Just as the soldier rammed downward, I slammed into him with my shoulder, knocking him over. With sheer brutality, I kicked the soldier's head while he was on the ground, stunning him and knocking his helmet off. A single swing of my sword split his head like a tulip. 

Dropping my sword, I moved swiftly to my dying comrade. No potion could heal this wound- even for one of us. His catlike, amber eyes met mine. Despite all, he smiled. "Been a long path, Al."

"That it has." I sobbed. "You stupid son of a bitch. Why didn't you run? Let me take over?"

"Where's the fun in that...?"

With that, one of the last witchers of the School of the Cat breathed his last. His body lay limp, his sword clattering to the bloodstained earth. I sighed, and pulled the folding shovel from my kit. I dug the man a grave, placing his steel and silver sword at the head, as I had before to many other friends. His cat's head medallion, I wrapped and hung against the crossguards, before placing a small, magical hex upon the blades, so that they will remain untouched. 

My order was dying. Including myself, there were but ten witchers left in the world- that I know of. One from the School of the Bear. One from the School of the Viper. Five from the School of the Bear. Three from the School of the Cat. None from the School of the Griffin. I looked at my companion's grave, and then out across the fields of war we were clearing for a contract.

I cannot stand for this any longer. This world, it needs us. Even the smallest monster is a colossal threat to a normal human- for without silver and speed, all beasts of the transmundane are near invincible, and a normal man cannot stand against the superhuman speed, strength, vitality and endurance presented by each and every monster roaming this gods-forsaken land. The path is long- but I shall spend damn near every moment I can making my order stronger. There must be more of us! We are needed!

--

Heed all, my call to arms. Those of you with a thirst for battle and adventure, a drive to hunt creatures of the night. I am Almir of Tampa, a witcher from the School of the Wolf. I seek all brave souls who wish to become like myself- superhuman monster slayers for hire. 

Out of character, I'm genuinely pissed with the fact that the witcher order is down to a sliver. There need to be more witchers, dammit! So, guys, watchers, anybody who reads this, leave a comment if you're interested. 

- Tell me what School you find interesting, and I'll explain it's perks and quirks, where it comes from, how they fight.

- If you want to be a witcher, I might even draw you! Don't expect fast work, though. Busy busy! I'll also include you in a list on my page somewhere. 

- If you'd prefer, I'll write a short quiz for you and place it here, and one can decide their witcher school by sending me their answers. 

To those who don't know what a witcher is or where it's from, there's a game and book series about it.