#115: Saint

Not to be confused with his distant descendant, Jack Skellington.

I recently started penning the 80-something-year-old journal of #100, Doug. It contains a young Farfeather's accounts of the volatile Cossterian War, along with his escapades of being a part-time inventor. There will be hardship and patinas, folks. Anywhoosers, here's a new post: Saint! Long ago in the kingdom of Everantle, this name was known widely across the lands, from the wealthy kingdom to the tiny little Shmobbit houses. It belonged to Saint Strikens, one of the many ruffians, thugs and hooded loners you could find at the nearest Inn of the Pillaging Pony. Equipped with a bow, arrow and scary-pants appearance, the man was a legend of the medieval world among such people as the Knights of the Round Ladle. (The character was actually created by my dad, AKA the Last Swaggon, back in his board-game questing days. Most of the design was described to me by him. The Illuminati symbol was my idea, though.)