There he stood, Jack Shaver of the Lowlands, determined and full of anger...

rage...

hatred...

He mumbled to himself through a thick lisp,

"Why do they make these friggin sheaths so tight? Why not give them a little wiggle room? You have to assume that when one is skilled enough to forge a weapon as fierce as the saber that they might also consider the comfort and convenience of its sheath. I guess not. Well there goes 20 minutes I'll never have back. 20 minutes I could have been pillaging villagers and dismembering foes. 20 friggin minutes trying to get this deadly blade back into its friggin sheath just so I don't cut my friggin leg of while I'm walking!"

...and so he soldiered on, deadly saber mostly back into its poorly designed sheath, ready to conquer more of the Lowlands and its peaceful, but woefully unprepared inhabitants.

Entered by: 0x009C…D7Ff and preserved on chain (see transaction)