Role

Chapter 10

In brief respites here and there, Hoisshyr took an accounting.
Removing his armor, and placing it on the racks in the Blade Sect,
Hoisshyr looked in a looking glass to survey himself.
Wicked burns adorn his face, and scars show along his whole body.
Whole patches of previously well-kept fur were gone.
His face showed the signs of intense battles often barely survived.
Shifting his gaze to his armor, he found it a far thing from
When it was first created. Gouges and scratches and burn marks
score the whole surface of it.
Constant battles with the Paladins and the Invokers of
the Outlanders, the Chasm, and the Fortress exposed this Blade
To fire and flame in such great quantities, it was a wonder
He hadn't been burnt to cinders. Enduring for the sake of his
deep desire for Victory, he wondered how long he could endure.
Perhaps one day he would make it to the rank of War Master, but he
beginning to doubt. "My life for the Empire."