The elevator slowly went down. Tyal was standing alone on it, clad in her armor. All of her weapons are stored conveniently in a small tattoo engraved on the back of her hands and forearms. She can pull any of them at will.
The tattoos were black and took the shapes of her weapons: a long sword, a spear, a bow, knuckledusters, hooks, pikes, halberds, and even more.
Arad had seen many types of storage magic, but this was one of the strangest. It helps a fighter bind a weapon to their body and make it grow stronger with them. But in exchange, those weapons feel like parts of their body. If one of Tyal's weapons breaks, she'll feel the same pain as if she were to lose one of her limbs.
"Are you worried?" A voice called from Tyal's chest, and she looked down at the pendant she was wearing. "Of course I'm worried. Not everyone is as collected as you, Arad."
