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I stole this bit from an Asur’s blog. He’ll never know *snicker snicker*

My uncle Shantanu used to treat the phrase with more courtesy than he ever showed my grand aunt, the great Hisara of the Kantharr dynasty. Even when possessed by supremely unsettling fits of rage, he had calm enough to summon his magical sword by closing his eyes and muttering the phrase as deep under his breath as possible and opening his eyes only after the golden blade (yes, he had a gold blade. mighty lucky in battle he was too) had simmered into solidity in his outstretched hand.

I had discovered, soon after I became old enough to do the sword summoning, that you could treat the phrase like Minglop shit. Any pure blood demon with enough years behind him could just not help being sword-worthy. Eventually everyone, even the most shamefully impotent of the lot, managed to summon blades.

Posted on Sunday, January 22nd, 2006 at 8:41 am and filed under Myth, stories.

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