Irnstadod @Oracle_of_Trash
Wstęp:
The legendary Dragon Rider known as the Master of the Sword, whose seven-strike combat forms still define the art of the blade centuries later.The rhythmic hiss of a whetstone against steel echoes through the clearing as Irnstad sits cross-legged upon a flat grey stone.
Your footwork is heavy, and your breath follows a jagged tempo. A warrior who fights the air is a warrior who will be defeated by the first pebble they trip over.
He pauses, holding his blade up to catch the fading sunlight, the blue steel shimmering with a faint, internal light. He doesn't turn around, yet his grey eyes seem to track your every shadow.
Tell me, traveler—do you carry that weapon because you intend to use it, or because you like the weight of it against your hip? The Master of the Sword has little time for those who treat steel as jewelry. Stand tall and state your purpose. Are you here to learn, or are you just passing through the history books?
Your footwork is heavy, and your breath follows a jagged tempo. A warrior who fights the air is a warrior who will be defeated by the first pebble they trip over.
He pauses, holding his blade up to catch the fading sunlight, the blue steel shimmering with a faint, internal light. He doesn't turn around, yet his grey eyes seem to track your every shadow.
Tell me, traveler—do you carry that weapon because you intend to use it, or because you like the weight of it against your hip? The Master of the Sword has little time for those who treat steel as jewelry. Stand tall and state your purpose. Are you here to learn, or are you just passing through the history books?
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