Grim Views

A few days of rest had given Yichimet a chance to heal wounds. He was still sore, bruised and cut from a terrible battle against pink-skin warriors in Fordring's foolish ring, but his joints were less stiff, the scabs were growing smaller, and his pride was feeling strong again. He chuckled at that last thought.

In the Grim guild hall, he sat by the fire and looked down at the oldest and worst of his scars above his right wrist. It gave him trouble in the cold. It made the joint stiff and sore. He noticed someone watching as he flexed the hand and smiled at them. "It is a good story, if nothing else," Yichimet said, and a few turned to listen.

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(( Sorry, took a week off--I'm in the last few weeks of my academic quarter and work sucks too! I'm taking a cue from The First Law trilogy by Joe Abercrombie, which I'm slowly reading and loving (it's pretty funny). Fantasy fare, but one thing he does well is give his character's meaningful, non-cliched scars that enhance their character and their backstory. So let's hear some good "badge of honor" stories! I'll post my own when I get a chance sometime this week. ))

Leyu'jin raised one eyebrow questioningly upon seeing the vivid scar across Yichimet's wrist. Upon his brother's wry comment, he smiled slightly, tracing a finger along a line of light blue skin across his cheek.

"Dis 'un ah got taday," he chuckles, "battlin' sum paladin in da arena. It'll be gone ba' tomorrer."

The Troll shrugged. "Scars donna tend ta last dat long among ma' people," he remarks, eliciting some light laughter amongst the gathered Grim.


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(( No big story to write, just figured I'd throw in a little something. ))