The sword of mine soul
He walked into the tent.
“I know why you’re here. I have one for you.” said the Smithy by the forge. Macavity wondered why the tent had never caught alight before.
“This is Hawkswift. It’s crossguard is thin, but the blade is long, It may not be the strongest of swords, but it can take any number of hits, and remain as sharp as ever. It has seen it’s share of horrors, but it remains faultless and radiant. It’s exterior does not match the cold nature that lies within, but when it is well guided, It is a force of reckoning. The runes on it’s blade make the sword. The words are sharp, piercing daggers.”
“No, I know what you’re going to say, it’s not like the broadsword you’re used to using, it’s more rapier-like.”
“And it will take a new fighting style, but it is mightier than any other sword in the world.”
“But that’s not what I was getting at. I was going to ask why it’s a pen?”