Nyredaggert eller nossekniv. Denne daggert blev anvendt i middelalderen.

They call you the Knife of Truth, armed with your Assassin Inquisitor Knife. When night falls and shadow takes the land, evil men walk the streets without fear--but not for long.

Your purpose is to be the harsh edge of justice, reminding men why they should fear the dark. Where you walk, men learn to fear the rasp of leather on steel, and learn all the connotations of “like a knife in the dark.”

Your Celtic Leaf Sword cuts down another goblin, leaving him in a pile of his buddies. They miscalculated your massive strength, and are reeling backwards on the retreat. They have learned too late that betraying a noble of the Black Water Clan would mean death. It’s too bad they won’t be able to share the word with their kin.

You adjust your sword, letting out a battle cry of rage as another goblin aims for your ankles. This one goes flying fifteen paces.

While your adventuring party may not agree with your code, you will not be disheartened. The tenants of your faith have fortified you into the person you are: a noble warrior, pure of heart and a representative of justice. So, when your party wants to kill the bandit you’ve apprehended, you stand as a protector over your prisoner with Angelic Sword at the ready.

Whether they agree with you or not, the right thing to do is to take the bandit to the proper authorities. They may be miles away in the nearest town, but you will not give in to your party’s murderous tendencies.

You glare out into the mists, gazing into this clouded world far above land and sea. You have traveled so far and overcome great challenges and dangers--even found a means to fly!--only to be thwarted. Somewhere in the mists waits the legendary Aether Dao, but it is elusive and you are lost.

You begin to wonder if the journey was all for nothing, when you remember some advice you once received. ‘Your will is your strongest asset,’ the elder had said. With this in mind, you begin to call for the sword and you feel something--somewhere--shift.

Kamp kniv i latex den perfekte kniv yil militær rollen.

They call you the Knife of Truth, armed with your Assassin Liberty Knife. When night falls and shadow takes the land, evil men walk the streets without fear--but not for long.

Your purpose is to be the harsh edge of justice, reminding men why they should fear the dark. Where you walk, men learn to fear the rasp of leather on steel, and learn all the connotations of “like a knife in the dark.

You have traveled an impossible distance in search of the dragon’s lair, and now you stand before its entrance. You can feel the heat radiating from inside and smell the sulfur. This will be the greatest battle of your life.

You pull your Crusader sword from its sheath and continue forward to meet your destiny. Whether you succeed or fail, you will go forth with the confidence of a seasoned knight.

As an Adventurer, you never know who you might be working for or what beast you’ll be sent to dispatch next. There’s only one thing for certain: if there’s enough money or glory to be had, you’re the right person for the job.

Admittedly, when the farmer came running into town claiming his crops had been torched, you hadn’t anticipated a trap. By the time you realized that the farmer was luring you into a bandit ambush, they already had you captured. At least your Adventure Sword is safe in your swordholder! Now, if you can just wiggle out of those ropes enough to grab the hilt…A bandit notices and takes your sword for himself.

You really need to rethink trusting farmers.

The street is a hard place to conduct business, but it’s a way of life you’ve become very good at keeping. Unfortunately, a poor ol’ sap hasn’t paid his dues. You’re an understanding sort, but you can’t risk looking soft. Not on the street.

So, you decide to give the ol’ sap a visit. Adjusting your Corsair Dagger and preparing your most intimidating look, you don’t expect this meeting to last very long. You’ll get your money today or the chap will be bleeding from the spleen. You’ll let him decide.

They call you the Knife of Truth, armed with your Assassin Rebel Knife. When night falls and shadow takes the land, evil men walk the streets without fear--but not for long.

Your purpose is to be the harsh edge of justice, reminding men why they should fear the dark. Where you walk, men learn to fear the rasp of leather on steel, and learn all the connotations of “like a knife in the dark.”

The Pirate City be dangerous, even when minding your own business in the corner o’ a tavern. Despite the Pirate’s Code, you be surrounded by cutthroats, scoundrels, and buccaneers alike.

Hangin’ from your shoulders and against your hip, your baldric keeps your Cutlass at the ready just in case things should turn ugly. But you be feelin’ lucky. The quality of your Cutlass’ blade be the sharpest you’ve ever owned. To all the would-be troublemakers, it’s a sure sign that you’re skilled enough to steal from the best...and if they’re smart, they’ll leave you to your ale.

The dark crevices of society is your domain. In the safety of your lair you review the bounties you have collected, considering your next target. When night falls upon the land, you will emerge.

The cityfolk have come to fear you and the silence in which you strike. With your leather gear and Assassin sword, you are able to maneuver in the shadows until your target is exactly where you want him. You are formidable. You are the assassin.

Latex Kniv til orken. Stålet er grumt og hakket og perfekt til ork rollen.

The forest is serene this morning as you head out along the trails. Birds are singing and the weather is crisp, perfect for working without breaking too much of a sweat. But as you approach the dead tree you’d marked the day before, you believe you hear something in the underbrush.

Your calloused, strong hand wraps around the handle of your Franciscan Axe. The edge is freshly sharpened, and you’re ready to defend yourself from any beast that you might find--relieved as a neighbor’s dog comes bounding out from a bush, instead.

Back to work.

The dark crevices of society is your domain. In the safety of your lair you review the bounties you have collected, considering your next target. When night falls upon the land, you will emerge.

The cityfolk have come to fear you and the silence in which you strike. With your leather gear and Dark Elven Blade, you are able to maneuver in the shadows until your target is exactly where you want him. You are formidable. You are the assassin.

The underdark is your domain. In the pitch blackness, the smell of damp earth all around, you wait with your raiding party. When night falls on the lands above, you will emerge.

The sun-lovers have come to fear you and the silence in which you strike. With your Bone Blade, you are able to maneuver in the shadows until your target is exactly where you want them. You are formidable. You are the assassin.

Elver kniv i latex. 

Never go into battle before first tasting your favorite ale. That is the advice you would give any of your fellow Dwarves, for you never know when this may be your last fight.

You slam your Beer Mug onto the table as you await the finest dark ale you know. The tavern was quiet before you walked inside, tense with the anticipation of a coming war, but you are loud and bring life back to its walls. You raise a toast to the barkeep and to any nearby, granting them glory on the battlefield before drinking deeply from your mug.

It would be a true shame to leave this world while thirsty.

Your elven ears hear the rustle of footsteps behind you. A smile crosses your delicate lips as you realize a stranger is attempting to sneak up on someone as lithe and alert as you. You are the kindred of the immortals, having honed your skills for hundreds of years. No normal mortal being can surprise you.

“Come out of hiding,” you call over your shoulder. “I know you are there.”

As you hear the ‘thwap!’ of an archer’s bow, you spin and dodge the incoming arrow, unsheathing your Elven Blade in one fluid motion. The fight has begun.

Ah, the satisfying sound of your dying enemy. The glory is not simply in the kill--an easy task, thanks to your Bone Scimitar--but in the revenge you find when you animate the dead and send them back at their own people.

Such terror have you wrought upon the land that no one forgets your name. You are the Bone Master.

You are a citizen of the Roman Empire, and a professional heavy infantryman of the Roman Army. You enlisted in your legion for twenty-five years of service, and you are both relieved and anxious to know you have only a few years left.

As you double-check that your military-issued Legion Dagger and sword are securely in their holders, you feel prepared alongside your fellow soldiers to go into battle. You just hope that your training will continue to serve you well. At the very least, you have confidence in the sharpness of your weapon.

Silence. Perfect silence.

You use the silence as a cloak of armour, hiding and waiting for the perfect opportunity. You ready your Black Shuriken, ready to launch your deadly attack when the lord finally emerges from inside the keep. One quick flick of your wrist and the lord breathes his last, the Shuriken hitting its mark...and you vanish, leaving their guards bewildered and afraid.

Your elven ears hear the rustle of footsteps behind you. A smile crosses your delicate lips as you realize a stranger is attempting to sneak up on someone as lithe and alert as you. You are the kindred of the immortals, having honed your skills for hundreds of years. No normal mortal being can surprise you.

“Come out of hiding,” you call over your shoulder. “I know you are there.”

As you hear the ‘thwap!’ of an archer’s bow, you spin and dodge the incoming arrow, unsheathing your Elven Short Sword in one fluid motion. The fight has begun.

Not every person in the tavern seems to believe your tales of adventure upon the high sea, but there are also very few who are not amused. You’re a grand storyteller--if not a professional embellisher--and at the end of the night you have more than a few coins to pay for your meal.

The truth of your tales? Perhaps the kraken was no more than a medium-sized squid. Perhaps the pirate ship battle was no more than two ships pointing cannons upon the other in a standoff. Either way, the truth is that you are quite the adventurer with your Cavalier Sword at your side.

Your elven ears hear the rustle of footsteps behind you. A smile crosses your delicate lips as you realize a stranger is attempting to sneak up on someone as lithe and alert as you. You are the kindred of the immortals, having honed your skills for hundreds of years. No normal mortal being can surprise you.

”Come out of hiding,” you call over your shoulder. “I know you are there.”

Again your elven ears pick up the faintest noise, and as you hear the ‘thwap!’ of an archer’s bow, you spin and deflect the incoming arrow with your Lorian Dagger. It appears some lesser creature is about to receive an important lesson about attacking an elf as powerful as you.

They call you the Knife of Truth, armed with your Assassin Unity Knife. When night falls and shadow takes the land, evil men walk the streets without fear--but not for long.

Your purpose is to be the harsh edge of justice, reminding men why they should fear the dark. Where you walk, men learn to fear the rasp of leather on steel, and learn all the connotations of “like a knife in the dark.”

Your elven ears hear the rustle of footsteps behind you. A smile crosses your delicate lips as you realize a stranger is attempting to sneak up on someone as lithe and alert as you. You are the kindred of the immortals, having honed your skills for hundreds of years. No normal mortal being can surprise you.

“Come out of hiding,” you call over your shoulder. “I know you are there.”

As you hear the ‘thwap!’ of an archer’s bow, you spin and dodge the incoming arrow, unsheathing your Elven Sword in one fluid motion. The fight has begun.

Your Celtic Leaf Sword cuts down another goblin, leaving him in a pile of his buddies. They miscalculated your massive strength, and are reeling backwards on the retreat. They have learned too late that betraying a noble of the Black Water Clan would mean death. It’s too bad they won’t be able to share the word with their kin.

You adjust your sword, letting out a battle cry of rage as another goblin aims for your ankles. This one goes flying fifteen paces.

Your Persian Dagger is the namesake of your people. Quick and sharp--precise in accuracy, and cruel when necessary--it is more an extension of who you are than a mere weapon.

In the early morning you wake to begin your sword drills. Honing your skill will one day mean the difference between life and death in this violent world. When you join the army and march upon the Spartans, you look forward to finally testing your blade against the most deadly fighters in the world.

Your clan needs blood in order to perform a powerful ritual before battle. You have captured many new slaves, and the chief has decided to force them into a tournament. The losers shall be sacrificed.

As the clan’s shaman, you await your first victim. There are cheers and roars of excitement from your fellow orcs as a human soldier is forced to fight one of his companions. In desperation to survive, their friendship quickly withers. The beaten opponent is brought before your altar, and with your Bone Knife you take the blood you need.

The underdark is your domain. In the pitch blackness, the smell of damp earth all around, you wait with your raiding party. When night falls on the lands above, you will emerge.

The sun-lovers have come to fear you and the silence in which you strike. With your leather gear and Corsair Cutlass, you are able to maneuver in the shadows until your target is exactly where you want him. You are formidable. You are the assassin.

You are a citizen of the Roman Empire, and a professional heavy infantryman of the Roman Army. You enlisted in your legion for twenty-five years of service, and you are both relieved and anxious to know you have only a few years left.

As you double-check your military-issued Roman Dagger and sword are securely in their holders, are feel prepared alongside your fellow soldiers to go into battle. You just hope that your training will continue to serve you well. At the very least, you have confidence in the sharpness of your weapon.

he trick is never to stay in one place for too long. Inevitably the undead will sniff you out of your hiding hole, and you’ll find yourself cornered by an endless sea of flesh-hungry abominations. Unfortunately, while you’re on the move, your last encounter emptied the last of your bullets. With only an empty gun you’re defenseless.

You take refuge in an old hardware shop, looking for a new weapon. The place has been picked clean. That’s when you spot the pile of old bricks with a dusty and crooked ‘for sale’ sign. You pick up one, liking the weight. It will be good to have while you search for something better.

With luck--and some skill--you manage to catch a deer with one of your arrows. You think to yourself that it’s a wonder that some wolf hasn’t already caught such a fat morsel. The beast is not completely dead from your shot, and you quickly give the creature a reprieve with the help of your Hunting Sword.

As you sling the beast’s legs over your shoulder and head home, you expect your own family is going to be thrilled at the wolf’s loss.

You have traveled an impossible distance in search of the dragon’s lair, and now you stand before its entrance. You can feel the heat radiating from inside and smell the sulfur. This will be the greatest battle of your life.

You pull your Crusader sword from its sheath and continue forward to meet your destiny. Whether you succeed or fail, you will go forth with the confidence of a seasoned knight.

Your Knight’s Code is one of valor, truth, and courage. You are tasked with defending the innocent and the weak, and today your oath is being tested. A Dark Knight has destroyed both your shield and sword during a duel, and he advances upon you.

This honorless fiend believes he has won, but you will not allow yourself to perish without taking this evil with you in the process. You grab for your Basic Dagger still at your waist, and prepare to make a final desperate attempt to lodge the blade between the Dark Knight’s armour.

Let your god guide your hand...for you have only one chance.

You use your Cutthroat Knife to open a sealed letter from a mortal ruler, reading it carefully while you sit at your fine mahogany desk. You laugh quietly to yourself as you read the fine penmanship. This mortal princess has no idea of your true nature or the evil plans you have for her and her people. She does not know that by writing to you, asking you to join her council, she is dooming herself and her cause.

With just a little more time, all will be as you designed. And with these mortals already so greedy for power--how easy it is for them to be so blind to the evil lurking in the shadows.

The sunrise peeks over the horizon long after you are already awake and practicing your sword drills. A jianke must practice daily with the Jian sword to become a true master, and you take your duty as a soldier seriously.

As you finish the thousandth practiced cut, slicing through the air with perfect form, you feel a certain peace overcome you. Practicing with your sword is like a form of meditation.

The Pirate City be dangerous, even when minding your own business in the corner o’ a tavern. Despite the Pirate’s Code, you be surrounded by cutthroats, scoundrels, and buccaneers alike.

Hangin’ from your shoulders and against your hip, your baldric keeps your Cutlass at the ready just in case things should turn ugly. But you be feelin’ lucky. The quality of your Cutlass’ blade be the sharpest you’ve ever owned. To all the would-be troublemakers, it’s a sure sign that you’re skilled enough to steal from the best...and if they’re smart, they’ll leave you to your ale.

Your Knight’s Code is one of valor, truth, and courage. You are tasked with defending the innocent and the weak, and today your oath is being tested. A Dark Knight has destroyed both your shield and sword during a duel, and he advances upon you.

This honorless fiend believes he has won, but you will not allow yourself to perish without taking this evil with you in the process. You grab for your Dagger still at your waist, and prepare to make a final desperate attempt to lodge the blade between the Dark Knight’s armour.

Let your god guide your hand...for you have only one chance.

In the dangerous tunnels of your home beneath ground, staying alive requires keeping all your senses on high alert. Your dark elf ears are trained to pick up even the faintest of sounds in the darkness, your hands ready with your Dark Elven Throwing Knife should you need to defend yourself from some beast or being.

So, when you hear the silvery tongue call out to you, “Hello, friend,” you are not so quick to let down your guard. While the other dark elf approaching you is an old acquaintance, you also heard the crossbow bolt being slid into place--now hidden behind her back.

Your Kriegsmesser cuts down another goblin, leaving him in a pile of his buddies. They miscalculated your massive strength, and are reeling backwards on the retreat. They have learned too late that attacking your group in the night would mean death. It’s too bad they won’t be able to share the word with their kin.

You adjust your shortsword, letting out a battle cry of rage as another goblin aims for your ankles. This one goes flying into several different places.

The street is a hard place to conduct business, but it’s a way of life you’ve become very good at keeping. Unfortunately, a poor ol’ sap hasn’t paid his dues. You’re an understanding sort, but you can’t risk looking soft. Not on the street.

So, you decide to give the ol’ sap a visit. Adjusting your Dagger Stabber and preparing your most intimidating look, you don’t expect this meeting to last very long. You’ll get your money today or the chap will be bleeding from the spleen. You’ll let him decide.

Your elven ears hear the rustle of footsteps behind you. A smile crosses your delicate lips as you realize a stranger is attempting to sneak up on someone as lithe and alert as you. You are the kindred of the immortals, having honed your skills for hundreds of years. No normal mortal being can surprise you.

“Come out of hiding,” you call over your shoulder. “I know you are there.”

As you hear the ‘thwap!’ of an archer’s bow, you spin and dodge the incoming arrow, releasing an Elven Throwing Knife back at your attacker in one fluid motion. The fight has begun.

Into the forgotten ruins you carefully tred, your Orc Cleaver grasped tight in your barbaric fist. The wind whips through the walls, cold and ruthless.

While there might be old traps and the danger of frostbite, you continue with no hint of fear. You are a brave northern warrior, and you’ve come to hunt down the elusive winter stag now hiding within these walls. You will slay it with your sword and bring it home to your people.