Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20190327223159/@comment-5583506-20190328174610

All the talk of scars had made Shanks subconsciously and discreetly feel on his own. Somewhere deep under his rugged, grayish fur he still wore plenty of scars from his time before the Great War. Scars he would carry with him for as long as he lived. After being exposed to the FEV virus, he was unable to get any else. Knife wounds, gunshots, even lacerations and burn marks. Nothing left a dent in his flesh anymore. He had at one point lost an entire hand, just to have it grow back within a month or two, without as much as a trace of the stump. He had had his right eye gouged out a couple of years back, but within a fortnight, his vision was as clear as ever.

The only thing left remaining to see if he truly did stand the test of time, would be a gunshot to the head, but that had yet to happen. And he had no intention of being the fool to pull the trigger. Not yet anyhow...