Tis a gruffly debated topic, the merits of teeth on a sword. An abomination in the eyes of many a blade master, though the Straight Smile is not without its worthy advocates. I admit I am merely an observer of the art, relegated to look on from afar with some small drap of envy. For I am a man forged by rails and will go to my grave with a set clung to my hip. Many who choose steel over shot are fools drunk on legend, but those who can take toe and elevate the medium deserve our utmost respect. Of this rare contingent, most I've known would condescend to a toothy instrument, citing them crude and cumbersome. Liable to wedge in bone, jitter and scrape. A cosmetic obsession, likely to turn against the wielder. There is much truth in this take and I've seen it with mine own. Pretenders, pomped and primed, fancied to scare, gunned down or cut down with their precious steel stuck in a ribcage, wrenching with boot as their vain spirits escape. But those who can tame the teeth are a fearsome bunch, no doubt. They come with no presumption of the elegant slice through ether and flesh. No. They come to saw you to pieces. And in the right clutches, they'll carve you with speed, spilling exorbitant fluid as they do. While most broach in follly, there is merit to the mental game. Catch sight of a true carver working magic with a Smile and the doubt will inevitably crimp your fervor. Hesitation will curse your attack. And you'll look in the dirt to see your own warm humors making soup of the soil as the Straight Smile shreds on by.