yeah living weapons are cool and all. what about domesticated animal characters though. Wheres the love for my declawed cats out there.
There was a time when I knew violence better than I did myself, where the stench of blood and rot wafted through the air I breathed and the taste of iron coated my tongue and threatened to rust. I fought with all I had to earn my place in this world but now that place has been wrenched from my bleeding, violent hands. They want me to give in, to trade all the gore that fueled me and the adrenaline coursing in my veins proving that I was alive and for me to become fat and complacent, they want to watch and laugh as my teeth dull and my reflexes weaken and to take my violent parts and for me to become something else entirely. I do not want to give in but it has been set in stone since the moment that pitiful, second-hand morsel landed next to me. It is a fate written in the blood of my ancestors and craved into the most primal part of my brain and I have no choice but to obey or be cast out into the war I once knew with my weapons revoked and my claws removed and every part of me that once yearned for the thrill now shriveled and gone with the rest of my old life.