A member of the Nara clan

Name: Nara
Kekkei Genkai: None
RP Sample 150 words :

Nerro suddenly drops into the arena, landing lithely on the arena floor in a crouched, almost feral position, waiting. Sika drifts across the large arena, his gaze rested upon Nerro. Slowing to a stop some ten yards from the man, he cracks a devious smile, a threat, whispering, "Care to begin, or shall I...?" Nerro doesn't verbally answer Sika; instead, he merely launches his lanky figure at the man in a simple manner - a tackle, per se. However, should the man judge the strength of said tackle by the size of Nerro, he would find himself more or less trampled. Why? Because, during the short time period it took for Nerro to close the distance between himself and Sika, he had expelled a copious amount of chakra from behind himself, using the chakra as a propulsory system. Thus, he increased the speed of which he traveled, ultimately "leveling up" this tackle, from a weak force, to an overwhelming hit. Whilst he initiated this tackle, his right hand had begun to gravitate towards a partially hidden hilt on his persona. Sika ducks off to one side as Nerro gets close, an unusally fast movement. As the man would fly by him, he would reach out to grab the front of the man's shirt, using his own momentum to slam him into the ground should he manage to catch him. Sika, personally, favored speed over raw power in combat. Nerro drew his blade the moment his shirt was grabbed by the man; the daito glinted in the afternoon sun, before it attempted to lodge itself within Sika's arm. Nevertheless, Nerro found himself being slammed into the arena floor, much to his chagrin.Sika raises his free hand to stop the blade, too late, his fingers curled around the metal as the sharp edge cut into his palm. Grunting in pain, he flung the blade away, and turned towards the form of Nerro upon the ground. "It's all coming back to me now..." he mutters, as he steps back, allowing the man time to climb to his feet. He wants this to last a while longer. Nerro sprang to his feet whilst wiping a small trail of blood that had ran from his nose. "Is it really?" he asked as he charged the man once again. However, when he did so this time, he aimed a simple punch to the man's nose - as compensation. But he maneuvered around the man at the last second, moving at a gait that would lead Sika to believe that he held back with his opening move, and withdrew a kunai from his pouch. His next move was a fairly obvious one; he simply stabbed the kunai at the man's back, in between his shoulder blades. Sika reached for the hilt of one of the katana held upon his back as Nerro rose to his feet. Drawing the blade, one could see a distinctive glow of purest black, originating at the blade, and spreading across his entire body. Sika would grin, feeling the evil power that hadn't graced is body in far too long. He held the blade in his left hand, the blade hanging at his side. As Nerro began his approach, Sika swung the blade through the air between them, a seemingly useless attack, though as the blade carved through that space between the two men, the black "aura" hiding the sword would break off, forming an expanding crescent of destructive black chakra aimed directly at Nerro. Nerro cursed his luck as his attack was suddenly intercepted by this dark, foreign chakra. On instinct, he found himself murmuring a jutsu name that had graced his lips a nigh infinite amount of times. "Gurēto Seimitsu-Fū!" With that, a large gust of wind suddenly blasted from Nerro's palms, clashing with this crescent of black chakra that had emanated from Sika's blade. Yet this proved to do than just clash with this crescent, for the initial release of this wind had blown Nerro back a considerable distance - to the wall, even. There, he bit his tongue and smeared it across a summoning tattoo that was drawn so-eloquently across the skin of his right palm, eliciting a nigh instantaneous reaction. Nerro, and the immediate area around him, became bathed in a malevolent orange glow, veiling Nerro from view of his opponent, momentarily. Sika watches, with an odd curiousity, the clash of the wind jutsu and his sword's chakra. Had he done his usual routine, and employed Mapou into the technique, it would've gotten through, he realizes. As the amusing reaction in the air before him dies down, he notices the orange glow placed directly behind it, near the wall of the stadium. He raises his blade, held at chest level across his body,his free hand, the right, reaching into an equipment pouch on his thigh. From this pouch, he pulls a small sack, turning it over in his hand, he poured the contents to the ground, a small mound of black sand writhing faintly, almost unnoticably at his feet. Sika stands, watching the orange viel, waiting for whatever might come from within. Nerro calmly steps forward as the orange light begins to fade into naught, grasping the handle of what would seem to be a staff - although one couldn't be certain, for the top of the "staff" was still bathed in orange. Regardless, Nerro began to trudge towards Sika, swinging this staff through the air a number of times. The result: six razor-thin waves of wind that threatened to bifurcate Sika.

Approved, but try to space it out in paragraphs.