RaNdOM
"What need have I of yer little knife?" From seemingly thin air the man produces a cutlass of his own, clearly superior in every way, its blade wickedly sharp and slick with what is unmistakably venom.
Then he shrug, and sheathes it again. "Tell ya what. I'm feelin' generous. Eye or hand. Final offer, or are ya too chickenshit?"
Then he shrug, and sheathes it again. "Tell ya what. I'm feelin' generous. Eye or hand. Final offer, or are ya too chickenshit?"
EVENT