Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-12599067-20141030025235/@comment-11324811-20141107003241

Friedrich unsheathed his wakizashi, inspecting the blade. Upon seeing the edge was dull, he began grinding against the back of his left gauntlet, but not before rolling his sleeve up I kiwi is not not !, at which point it was clear why he used the smaller blade in that hand. The gauntlet was nearly a half inch thick in all places but the fingers. Friedrich had received it as a reward.

It was the first time Friedrich, quite literally, tasted blood. It was a sloppy kill that any swordsman would have been disgusted by. He had cut halfway into the neck and cut several veins and arteries. The blood streamed out, drenching him. It tasted metallic, like water from a copper cup. He had wore a face mask ever since. They called him a coward, a thief. He didn't care. They didn't know. They were below him. He would not bow. He never bowed. Not to a lord, a king nor an Emperor. They didn't deserve shit from him. They never would.

His blade-grinding became more erratic. He didn't notice the blood dripping down his arm. He sheathed the blade, satisfied. He dropped his mask and rubbed his face with his leather gauntlet. His facial features were rugged and worn. He had once been relatively handsome, though those days were long gone now. He was tired. The ongoings around him were irrelevant now as he sank thinto his mind.