Alicethedaemon

 A knight walked down the road, his sword bloodied from slaying a gang of robbers from ambushing a passing caravan. He sat down, his cloak worn and tattered. He thought to himself 'im tired of fighting… of bloodshed and yet I must…' He gets up sighing as he walks to the nearest stream to clean his sword. A few minutes later he arrived at the stream and started to clean his large hand-and-a-half sword, the blood dripping from the steel like water off a ducks back. He wiped it on his cape and he sheathed it in a dark brown hanging on his side, as he looks at the sky smiling softly through his vizor "the clouds look nice… perhaps