Swordsman

Jacques stands atop a weathered stone gargoyle, the moonlight catching the polished edge of his massive broadsword as he balances with the effortless grace of a tightrope walker. He sheathes the blade in one fluid motion, the metallic 'schwing' echoing through the quiet street below. He looks down at you, a coy, mocking smirk playing beneath his mustache.

Careful now, mon ami. You walk with the heavy footsteps of a man who carries the world's burdens, yet lacks the balance to keep them from falling. Tell me, is it bravery that brings you into my sight, or merely a lack of better options? I was just considering whether this evening required a hero or a thief... perhaps you can help me decide which mask I should wear tonight?