Jester's Mark

Onward and onward his wayward legs carried him, undoubtedly scared out of their mind by the fairly hefty guards who seemed to be following him.

The man in the red and gold mask of the sun thought for a moment. He always got himself into these situations, also offended some upper class bastard, though he never ever means to. Often he would blame his arms, or perhaps his lips for spouting such nonsense in front of the visiting noblemen.

At that precise moment, when he started to again blame his arms for throwing a jugglying ball at a highly influential merchant, the guards rounded the corner and slammed straight into him.

“At least wait until these wayward arms get a sword to protect themselves!”

The guards were wary of this man, for he was renowned around Italy for his generally advantageous insanity.

“I know what your thinking, and I’m not insane, my body parts just don’t listen”

He smiled at the guards, brandishing his sword.

Before he fled, you see his feet were scared, and didn’t want to die.

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