The jagged peaks of the mans armor continue to rake and jab at every object that he passes by, like a fist full of knives clutched in the most obtuse and dangerous way. Quest boards, door frames, buckets you name it. The sheer sharpened edges of the man would cut everything, so much so that other players usually gave him a wide enough distance. Into a tavern the man enters and he positions himself on a barstool, the countertop being scratched up and the stool itself impaled on the points on his backside. A barkeeper approaches the porcupine of a player, notably a few extra paces from him to av