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.
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