Thursday, April 28, 2016

100 Words a Day 835

Sir Bedivere rose and drew the magnificent sword from the scabbard at his side. The blade was well-polished, shining in the sun, causing those near him to shield their eyes. The only thing that surpassed it in beauty was the glittering gems ebbed in the pommel. There was beautiful script on either side of the blade, though no one else present was close enough to make out the words. By contrast, the scabbard was plain, made of black leather with silver banding. The inferior quality of the craftsmanship and lack of ornamentation revealed it was much younger than the sword.

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