Board Thread:Off-Topic/@comment-24108228-20150817004654/@comment-24739946-20150826190642

Name: Strife

Age: 22

Other: Assasin that lives on lynx island with his mentor. Almost entirely isolated from the rest of the world, and technology, as he believes in the old ways of the sword, and less so in giant explosive guns of ultimate doom.

____________________________________________________________________________

"Ah, that hit went well." Strife thought,  almost back at his home, Lynx island. He had just been sent to kill one of the politicians or leaders or something, from one of the desert tribes. Strife didn't really know, as the assasination was at a convoy between the two.

As he neared the shore of desert island, he unpacked his on abord belongings: A small sack of gold from the mission, some food, a piece of bluesteel found on the guy, and not much more. He went to go rest in his stone house, which he had built by an old friend. It was nice, featuring a wooden floor, with a bed, a table, 2 chairs and a nice fireplace where food was cooked. He set down the gold and bluesteel on the table and placed his weapons on the floor near the fireplace, then went out to do a bit of fishing. Most of his food came from the market, he just felt a sort of warm, theraputic feeling from fishing. Strife pet one of the friendly lynx, before sitting down on the shore and fishing.

He fished for about an hour, before he gave up and went inside, lieing down on his bed. Strife looked up at the ceiling, and thought about his old life on plateau, practicing the way of the sword with his father. They had a short duel on a small cliff (The one with the onions) before ending, heading back home, to a stone hut. His friend, Stefan, was practicing stonework with his father, working with a chisel.

Reflecting on these thoughts, Strife laid back, relaxed, and drifted peacefully to sleep.