Too much imagination causes insomnia and dumb stories like this.

And I still remember the flop of my old story; Eliminate.

Gah. Just read.

The warrior sharpened his sword like he used to every battle.

Shing! Shing!

The sound of the blade touching the stone was sickening.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang.

The warrior looked up from his work and thought,

It’s time. Time to rock the battlefield

He was medium built, thin maybe, but his muscle’s weight prevented him from failing the weight test.

His hair was disheveled……and white.

No, it wasn’t dyed. Dyes were expensive at that time.

And he had a triangle birthmark in his left cheek.

An upside down triangle.

Shaped like the mountains of Mushroom Shrine.

Mount Yuthar

A place where doom awaits those who defy the mountain gods.

The warrior was now heavily armoured in Umbermail.

In his hands was a 2-metre long sword.

The sword was majestic.

As tall as a lamp post.

The warrior walked towards the recruiting tent in the middle of the town square.

“Fenrir, reporting from the east side of town.” The warrior announced to the army recruiter.

The fat recruiter looked at Fenrir with a snort, and closed his eyes.

What can a man like him do in a war?

The warrior, whom we know was Fenrir, withdrew a hand-axe from the side of his belt,

and sliced it through the air, cutting into the table which placed a ‘RECRUITING FORM’.

“There, I’m in cos’ I say it.”