The Sword Master is a tale of Love, Betrayal, Tomfoolery, Temporal Displacement, Existential Propaganda and silly MS-paint drawings. Proceed at your own risk.
You are THALAMUS, the SWORD MASTER. A venerated warrior of high ranking status within your tribe of GREEN-SKINNED BRUTES. While most GREEN-SKINNED BRUTES display similitude to the AXE, you are different. You consider yourself a man of FINE TASTE, and your DOMINEERING PERSONA lends itself to acquiring such things. You enjoy taming and hunting WILD BEASTS, and keep an extensive collection of BIG GAME TROPHIES and EXOTIC SWORDS in your village. Unfortunately that is not where you are today…
After your village was razed to the ground, and you were submitted into slavery, you find yourself in the GLADIATORIAL PITS OF REDGEAR. A loathsome spectacle, combining senseless violence and a blood-lusting crowd.
Now let’s see what we can find in this cell.
Well Hello. An object of quality. She simply MUST be obtained.
Thalamus: “What’s your name?”
Thalamus: “Join my party.”
A guard approaches. What do you do?