The life of a living sword is a life that can have its downsides. While you are often killing and cutting swaths of gore in the battlefield, no wielder lives forever. Then, you lie cold and unmoving in their hands waiting for another. Always noticing the withered claws grasping you in death as they did in life.
It was a shame he could never find the time to prepare another wielder. Which wouldn’t be a problem if the idiot hadn’t decided to protect his little kingdom on the front lines.
The fool thought that he could save his kingdom the same way he gained it. By leading a charge with his men and eating some arrows. Unfortunately Parr the Punctureless, became Parr the Pincushion in mere seconds of his first charge. Then Parr the Martyr in mere seconds more. His higher stature making him a larger target for the marauding bands. Something he didn’t quite seem to expect.
