John's physicals

John Taylor

==Strength==

==Speed==

==Durability==

==Combat Skill==



John has gotten a fuck of a lot better at physical fighting since becoming the new Walker:

He lunged forward, an open straight razor suddenly in his hand. The long steel blade flashed supernaturally bright as it leapt for John’s throat. John grabbed hold of the young man’s wrist at the last moment, then twisted it until he cried out and was forced to drop the razor. The young man hauled himself free and fell back, still glaring at John, who didn’t allow himself to appear in the least disturbed. He watched the young man carefully, and when the new-comer went to snatch up the razor again, John threw his drink in the young man’s face, blinding him.
“That’s enough!” John said sharply. “We don’t have to do this. Tell me what the problem is. Maybe I can do something to help.”
The young man shook his head fiercely, drops of water flying in all directions, his terrible gaze fixed on John again.
“You’ve already done too much.”
He produced a glowing knife from inside his jacket. The serrated blade shone with a nasty, unhealthy light, the essence of poison given shape and form and a cutting edge. He closed with John again, cutting and hacking viciously. John ducked and dodged, the knife always getting closer, until finally he had no choice but to grab the young man’s arm again and turn it suddenly around, so he impaled himself on his own blade. He cried out once, in shock and outrage rather than pain, and fell backwards. Blood soaked the front of his jacket. The glowing blade disappeared. John knelt beside the dying man.
“It didn’t have to come to this,” John said. “Why wouldn’t you listen to me? Who are you?”
One hand came up to grab John’s lapel and pull his face down to the dying man’s. He smiled horribly, his teeth slick with blood. “My name is Henry. Just like you planned.”
“I don’t understand,” said John. “I don’t know you.” -Night Fall

==Equipment==