None of them ever seem to have a story behind them. When's the last time you picked up a sword to defend your town from maurading bandits? Quite a while I'm willing to guess. It strikes me that a hum-drum life will never afford the opportunities to aquire a scar of real storytelling value, but you'll aquire some that are downright embarrasing.
I'm looking at my wrist now, at a wound that just healed. I've been wondering if it's going to leave a scar, and it looks to be in the affirmative. One long scar, with a parralell one that is slightly shorter. It looks distinctive, if not a bit faint.
Was this one aquired through a great feat of personal strength? Combatting a deamon from the fiery pits of hell? No, the cat swung at the mouse cord- and missed. As fearsome as the cat might be, I can't rightly equivocate it to a fiery deamon from hell. Deamons aren't so clutzy. More huggable too.
And then there's the curved scar on my arm. It's almost a half circle, really. That one was aquired in the process of retrieving a great artifact: the remote control. I don't even watch TV. My cousin walked into the room and said "I can't find the remote" "oh it's probably under the couch. Lemme get it for you..."
Those couches can be vicious I tell you. I fancy I'll put it in a cage with the cat and see which one comes out victorious. I'm betting on the couch personally, but then, hitting a couch for a cat is probably the equivalent of hitting the side of barn for a human.
But if anyone asks, I definitely got it combating a horde of deamons.
I have one scar, about 14-16 inches long and about 1/4 inch wide, running down my left leg, just barely to the side of my kneecap. It would be impressive if I got it while clashing broadswords with a general of a massive undead army. I could say that, as my leg fell out from underneath me, I managed to make one final swing, decapitating the evil commander.
Instead, all I really can say is that it's from a scalpel that was used with the controlled, careful hand of an experienced doctor. I wasn't even awake at the time. Oh well. I guess I at least have the glory of being able to say that the pain didn't even phase me....
I completely understand! The one across my right knee (4 inches long) is from when an assassin took a cheap shot and tried to disable me before the kill.
The one on my abdomen is the time when I heroically jumped in front of a dragon's claw to protect a small child. And above that one is a puncture scar from the dragon's henchman who happened to have a crossbow that I missed cutting the string on.
If only everyone else knew how we truly get the scars we have.
I got a scar across my eye from a tense duel with the wicked Count DeGuiche. I just wish it didn't fade so much. . . :(
Quote from: Seraphine_HarmoniumI got a scar across my eye from a tense duel with the wicked Count DeGuiche. I just wish it didn't fade so much. . . :(
In the theatre. *smirks*
I have a scar running across my chest, just underneath my neck. Was it a just-missed blow by a murderer? I think not. It was falling down the stairs onto a box of sharp implements that got me it.
I also have a scar across my hand. Is it from a vicious slash by a marauding random encounter? Nope, it's from when a drunk tried to smash a bottle over my hand... and missed.
...
That was a particularly painful encounter in the backstreets of Wrexham, I'll admit. But still.
Quote from: WensleydaleIn the theatre. *smirks*
What if it was? At least we were stage fighting. :fencing:
Strange, tiny red spots all over my arms and legs that a witch placed on me as a curse of non-prettiness. They are much more prominent when I'm slightly cold.
In the real world, they're goosebumps that are present a very large part of the time. I have no idea why I have them or how common this is, but I've yet to see very many people around me with the same condition.
I also have a scar of a sort in that I'm addicted to milk and have been known to drink almost a gallon in one day in the past. This is ironic and strange because apparently I almost died due to being allergic to milk as a baby.
umm... How can you be addicted to milk...
:offtopic:
more importanly why would you want to be? *shudders* milk is one of those things that I cannot stand to drink. Did you know that we are then only animal that continues to drink milk after we are weaned?
Quote from: Ravenspath:offtopic:
more importanly why would you want to be? *shudders* milk is one of those things that I cannot stand to drink. Did you know that we are then only animal that continues to drink milk after we are weaned?
And we're the only ones with complex tools too. I wonder if there's a connection?
I've got no scars; all the ones I get fade away too darned quickly. There was a real long one on my leg for a few years, which I got bravely spelunking out of the lair of a foul beast.
my hands have more lumps, bumps, scars, and poorly healed breaks than a human should go through. It is patently obvious to all that I resisted hours of torture...
(if you call thirty years of Volleyball torture...)
(Oh, and Mina---First and Last and Always...Great Avatar)
I would call 30 years of volleyball heaven. And it's Floodland, by the way :p. I sometimes get confused on these boards, because it's common to refer Andrew Eldritch as Eldo on the internets, but over here it's reserved for Elven Doritos.
Oh, I know where that avatar is from...I was just making a comment...It was on my mix this AM, actually (This Corrosion).
And it was, at times, the best escape 30 years could be, though the hands feel pretty rough in the morning.
(and Lucretia is actually the 'Second of Kiminus' in Igbar, and she's a pale flower, but awfully tough on the inside)
Quote from: MinaI sometimes get confused on these boards, because it's common to refer Andrew Eldritch as Eldo on the internets, but over here it's reserved for Elven Doritos.
As it should be.
Though if people weren't lazy, it'd be El
Do...
You hear me, people?!
:P
Yes, oh revered Lord of the Chips.
And when are you gonna give us a new comic page, eh?!
Quote from: Elven Doritos (for a nominal fee)As it should be.
Though if people weren't lazy, it'd be ElDo...
You hear me, people?!
:P
Capitalizing in the middle of a word is unnatural. You shall be refered to as El Do from now on.
Quote from: Stargate525Yes, oh revered Lord of the Chips.
And when are you gonna give us a new comic page, eh?!
Patience will be rewarded.
Quote from: Elven Doritos (for a nominal fee)Patience will be rewarded.
If we accept the premises
a)Stuff happens
and
b)It takes some measure of time for stuff to go from the state of Not Happened Yet to Happened
then we can easily see that
c)The longer you wait, the more stuff has Happened
Thus we easily see that if you ever want to accomplish stuff, you only need wait.
:ontopic:
Though I don't got any scars of note, a friend of mine does diving for the police a couple of counties over, and actually got hit with a .22 in the gut by a fleeing criminal trying to slow down the police that were chasing him. Collateral damage, though it might have been, it still beats most scar stories.
I gots one on my thumb it looks like. I was cutting some pita for a hummus salad at work. I got careless and cut myself. At the time, it was a rather spectacular wound, bleeding down to my elbow and after being bandaged and gloved, filling the glove up with red. At least until someone who knew what he was doing took a look at it. Now it's just a little red spot.
I was greatly marked to be the avatar of some spear wielding deity, destined to lead countless legions in a holy war against His enemies. Odin, perhaps? I know not, but the spear-head scar on my arm is proof enough.
It is most definately NOT due to an accident with a heat-gun and an irate mother.
I have a pair of heavy scars on my shoulderblades.
They represent where wings were cut off.
I just found one on the base of my thumb that clooks like a hammer and sickle... Definitely got that from irate Communist leaders after exposing their corruption to the west. Didn't get it from a broken chair, no siree!
I have a four or five inch scar on the bottom of my left arm, near the elbow. I actually got it from a screw sticking out of a staircase, but I frequently tell people it's from a Vietcong bayonet, then launch into a practiced war story that gets more glorious with each retelling (presently, I was captured when the rest of my platoon was destroyed, sharpened a bamboo stick over months with my teeth, and took out the patrolling guards by going for the jugular. It continues, but by now people have tuned me out).