Geop’s hand grazed the hilt of the sword and he felt its voice in his mind.
“Take me with you,” it said in a whisper that caressed his brain as a summer breeze. Geop turned and picked it up. Its sheathe was attached to a worn, black belt, which he cinched around his waist without thinking. It hung there, largely forgotten, until they returned to the city.
“Draw me,” is commanded softly when another adventurer bumped into him in The Raging Dragon.
Geop met the man’s apology with steel.
“Use me,” the sword continued. Geop’s face twisted and he thrust.