I feel a bloody kinship now to tragic Skafloc and doomed Isildur. What great dark forces of cruel malignancy set forth to soundly destroy my honor and bestow such woe? Did the fickle Norns or taunting Fey seek to lay low that great joy of man? Would that I had lived in other times, when the talented smiths of yore tapped into that wellspring of arcane knowledge and knew how to heat treat the tang of ages.
Alas, the sword doth broke upon a trifling cut, here at the guard, and LO...I have lost faith with the mighty Cold Steel of Ventura California, no more shall I patronize their weak efforts. I sit now and lament upon my sun-bleached throne and remember...
7 comments:
WOW. This is how we know you're a prolific writer. All that to say that it sucks that Cold Steel is sub par and your sword is broken! ;)
Thanks Darlin'
A giant melancholy seizes me to hear of your broken steel. For I remember my father when he sayeth to me. Not men you can trust. But this, steel, you can trust.
True Charles, oh so true.
I wanted to come up with a clever reply, but I'm spent.
Great write up from you concerning the event!
Bummer!
It's the thought that counts Paul.
Yep Angie-sure is.
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