Pain. It seems like that is all I have to offer. I am a sword wielder. All that means is I have a sword and when the money is good; I’ll use it. Sword wielders are wanderers, simple folk. As a career journeyman you learn to pack light and how not to care about things. All I own fits on my back. I do not need much. The armor I wear is the only clothing I own. The mail is worn and well-used, but I cannot afford to buy new mail. It works for the moment and that’s all I care about. So what that the chains near the end of the sleeves are beginning to separate and become ratty? I am not a young man anymore, therefore I do not have to protect myself as well as I used to. Before, once the armor rusted or the chains in the mail disconnected, I would run out and find a smith. But now it’s like… whatever. The metal is still good. The armor is solid. No need to replace it. What is the point?

Everything I own is old. The leather of my pants is worn, cracked and sun-bleached. But only in the parts that are not covered by the armor plates. I wear a shin plate, and a thigh cover. I used to wear knee plates but I lost one in a skirmish with a difficult client. Then I just sold the other one for the scrap metal. My body fells more like a rental at this point in my life. Like I do not own so I should stop taking good care of it, right? So now I do not wear knee plates. Honestly I was surprised by the offer I got for the knee plate when I sold it. I do not care about my armor. It is a suit of misfits. Bits and pieces I picked up here and there. It is not a complete set and the metal does not even match. But who really cares? The newest part is the helmet. A wonderful piece, a black steel with a full face cover. It is a solid piece that slides up and down of my head. I used to have helmets with face covers that move, but they need more upkeep then a solid piece of metal. Plus, now no one see my face.

I don’t like it when people see my face. My business is death. I literally kill people for a living. Most people do not like being killed. Therefore, they tend to fight back. After spending a career in sword-wielding, I have a face full of scars. Swords have collided with my face more than once. I have no sight in my left eye. The massive scar covers my face and cuts through the now gray and dead eye. It scares children, a lot. Therefore, I like the helmet that covers my face. I bought it from some old hag that was married to a sword-wielder. She had no idea what it was worth; she just want to get rid of it. Amazing though that a sword-wielder had a wife. It is a lonely profession that does not attract much attention. In my experience, people only pass over you and pretend you do not exist. Unless they want to hire you. If they want to hire you, then scars could be important. I have a lot of scars from to blades that miss the plates, covers and mail. But if you have a lot of scars, people will see that and want to hire you. Scars mean that you have killed before, and they want an experienced killer. Scars also mean dedication. It means you did not give up and still went for the kill even though you were injured. But on the other hand, scars could mean that you are old. That you are worn out and broken. They could see your scars and think that you are bad at killing because the target hit you.

All my scars are old scars. Scars are a young man’s game. Killing can be done by brute strength or by cunning. Once you get old and the strength is not there anymore, you have to outsmart your opponent instead of overpowering them. But once you have the scars, people treat you differently. They are marks on your skin that tell stories. Only you know the story your scar tells, but most people look at them and judge.

My arm and leg covers and plates were all bought second-hand. My mail is the only piece that was made for me. Therefore, my armor looks like a scrap heap. So, you want to talk about felling judged? On top of the scars, I have all this mismatched armor. The eyes follow me and none of them speak a kind word. It does not matter. I am a journeyman. I will simply go to the next town. The path is long and my time is short. Walking is simple, and all you have to do is walk.