[color=Lawngreen][h1][center][img]http://i.imgur.com/nYJBXcD.jpg[/img]
James Camron[/center][/h1][/color]

Kain’s fiery entrance onto the battlefield seemed to be the spark to an inferno of chaos, as the SOLDIER’s rushed into the poorly equipped Archadian militia, cutting them down as easily as one would do to a field of wheat, only that blood and pain was all that they were harvesting tonight. As James reached the shore, he felt an. . . urge that he couldn’t explain, couldn’t understand, yet it flowed through his veins like a burning poison. His breath got stuck in his throat, his mind assaulted by disjointed images, emotions, and all other sorts of sensory stimulus. Falling to a knee and clutching his head, James let out a short cry as the singular moment seemed to stretch on towards an eternity, the images, sights, and sounds coming together to show a brief moment of his past.

[hr]
He stood before a trio of thugs, shortly after completing the sign-up for the SOLDIER program. They were hopeful like him, and from the way they looked down at him, he had known they were insulted by his apparent gaul. They had pushed him around, kicked him, knocked him down, beat him some more. . . and he had taken it. He had taken it just like he’d taken everything else in his life, with nary a word or cry and accepting it all like it was a fated happening set in unchangeable stone. But it was not a passive nature or unwillingness to strike and harm that held him back, no matter how much he had told himself that. 

As they laid into him that day, cursing and berating him for daring to do something so brazen, he hadn’t felt sadness, nor despair, nor even the slightest bit of regret or remorse. What he had felt was rage, a rage that he’d been suppressing ever since he was a child, because he knew it wouldn’t do him any good. He knew that acting on anger only got you killed, clouded your judgement, made you someone you didn’t want to be, so he bottled it all up, for years and years, never once letting out so much as a hint of the broiling rage that had building up in his heart.

But as James saw his slightly younger self get beaten to the pulp, knowing that he would later get lectured on getting beaten later and nearly disowned for his decision to join the SOLDIER program, he suddenly found himself wondering. He wondered briefly, yet thoughtfully, on what life would be like if he had never let this anger build up as it did. What if he had never just let things happen, what would happen if he stopped thinking, planning, considering, even wondering, and just let the first urge that hit him, [i]take him[/i].
[hr]

As the moment in time faded back into reality, James noticed something. 

[i][color=Lawngreen]To your left.[/color][/i]

[i][color=Lawngreen]Danger.[/color][/i]

[color=Lawngreen][b][i]MOVE.[/i][/b][/color]

Before he could even think of what these feelings meant, the SOLDIER was already on the move, hopping out of the way of a hail of bullets as a group of three Archadian soldiers decided to take aim at him. Landing a short ways away, Bow already in hand and nocked, James drew back the arrow, then let it fly with barely half a second of aim, yet he knew it would hit. And hit it did, smacking into the front most soldier with a burst of smoke enveloping them and their companions. Apparently fearing another, more lethal shot, the two allies began shooting in the direction James had been standing, but he had long since moved on from that position, the sound of chaos masking his approach from the side as he slipped into the smoke, homing in on the burning life energy that flowed through them all.

The soldier he had initially struck was the first target, having apparently backed away coughing from the sudden influx of polluted air. They never had a chance of noticing him sweeping in out of the fog with a clawed strike to their throat, cutting of the flow of air into their body as he continued the strike, swinging them around by the neck to bring them slamming down hard into the earth. The two other militiamen tried to turn around upon hearing the ruckus from behind them, but the SOLDIER whipped around his bow into the gun of the first one to turn around, hitting their hand hard enough to make them drop it with a cry, one that was quickly silence as the bow came back with frightening speed to strike them against their chin from below, knocking their head back harshly before bull-rushing into them and bring them down to the ground in a tumble of limbs. The remaining soldier pointed the gun in the scuffles direction, unable to see what was happening in the smoke, but didn’t fire, too afraid of hitting their fellow comrade.

This proved their undoing.

A figure quickly rose like a specter and flew at them, quickly revealing itself to be unconscious form of the second Archadian sent hurtling towards their brethren as he darted to the side, his leg snaking out to strike at the inside of his final foe’s knee. The man crumpled to the ground with a cry, his fellow soldier falling atop him. Pinned to the earth, they tried desperately to push the body off of them, but before they could make any progress, James struck with a savage flurry of bows from his bow to their helmeted head. 

As the smoke spread out through the battlefield, so with it came James, rational mind and fears washed away by the searing pulse of Raganavic’s instinctual lust for domination of those who would challenge him. The beast and the man worked together as one to stalk the smoke, slipping out of it to let loose precise shots at any who would deem to try and sneak up on or target his fellow SOLDIERs, only to then slip back into the dark cloud of smoke, relying on the Aeon’s ability to see the life around him in order to make his next judgement for attack. However, one would notice quickly that, while accurate, the SOLDIER never shot to kill, only to disable, aiming for shoulders, elbows, knees, etc, trying his best not to add to the kill count if he didn’t have to.