Doubtless you're all on the edge of your seats, so just to let you know... the final honour point calculations came in, and yes, I got that Grand Marshal's Slicer with a whole 52 points to spare.
I'd rather been hoping for the Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, to hold aloft the sword from the bosom of the waters of Loch Modan, and that merely drawing it would smite any opponent who dared glance in my direction. As it turned out, the quartermaster handed it over with barely a second glance, muttering something about it being the 73rd that day, and combat continued much as before, apart from each swing dealing an extra 17 to 23 points of damage. Perhaps I'd built it up a little too much... Still, on the plus side, the ludicrously oversized blade is longer than my legs, so when wandering around with it strapped to my belt I plough furrows in the earth, which should be of considerable benefit to any agrarian communities in the zones where I quest. Provided they're not quest objectives, that is, otherwise the improved crop yield may be offset slightly by the wholesale slaughter with added "ploughshares into swords"-type irony...
2 comments:
So it was YOU?!
That's the last time I invite you in to my house. Have you seen the mess you've made of my parquet floor? And the vet says my cat will never grow that patch of fur back again.
Damn kids and there eight foot swords of ploughing.
AND GET OFF MY LAWN!
Being stealthy loses some of its effectiveness when one leaves ploughed land trailing behind.
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