“Unlike Master Vd, who hath mastered his Vision more than his Force, I find myself more ined towards Force Art and have devoted much time to hone my skills. Five turies have passed; I am not as I once was,” Isaiah said.
The dragon smiled. “I shall offer thee a worthy sword. Iurn, thou shalt spar with me.”
Burn grinned. “Sure, but just once. I have t Man back before tomorrow.”
“It shall not take long,” Isaiah nodded.
Another door to a chamber creaked open, revealing an array of legendary ons that dazzled Burn's eyes. Each type of on, whether ented or merely unique, bore the weight of history's annals.
A mere gnce firmed that eae shimmered with glory, equal in worth to his st trusty sword, rest in peace.
“What on do you prefer to wield?” Burn asked.
Isaiah hummed thoughtfully, “A spear.”
Burn nodded, suppressing a smirk. With purpose, he strode toward the rows of long swords, searg for just ourdy and banced enough feneral's use.
After all, practicality in the heat of battle should never be uimated, even amidst such legendary distras.
“All of them are det,” Burn said.
Isaiah grinned. “Doth it re difficult to choose?”
“No, I’ll just choose randomly,” Burn touched the oh the lo bde.
“Pray, allow me to offer mine reendations,” Isaiah said, stepping closer. He waved his hand, revealing a new chamber deep in the room. This one housed a massive, broken horn—t at 20 feet.
Burn narrowed his eyes and then turned his face to Isaiah and his broken horn on his head.
“Thou art correct. This one is mine,” Isaiah said.
Burn frowned. “No, this is weird. A sword made of the horn of a dead dragon, sure, but someone I know who is alive? That’s almost gay.”
The er of Isaiah’s lips twitched, and a vein popped on his cheek. “By thy reasoning, utilizing the horn of a fallen dragon is verily necrophilic.”
“I wasn’t being serious. I was asking if you were serious about me your horn,” Burn said dryly.
“Do not make it sound weird!” Isaiah turned blue.
Burn sighed and poi the room. “I mean, the way you store it is like st a secret, erected dragon’s dildo behind your other shiny regur toys.”
“I possess not suations!” Isaiah snapped. “Moreover, thou nearly didst select the oh the lo bde. Is that not somewhat ‘gay’ as well?”
“That’s just practical. If you want tue, a spear is lohan a longsword,” Burn sneered.
“Desirest thou my broken horn or not?” Isaiah souired now.
“Don’t make it sound weird!” Burn yelled. “Besides, I need a ready-made sword, not a legendary material to make a sword.”
Isaiah snapped his finger, face deadpan, and the 20-foot-tall horn shapeshifted into a longsword with a long bde, perfectly to Burn’s preference.
“Oooh, a two-in-one dildo,” Burn hummed, impressed.
“This wretch—!”
“I love you, homie,” Burn winked with a little click of his cheek.
“Thy Holiness! Restrain thy husband!” Isaiah's face was dark, gritting his jaw as he felt violent goosebumps.
Burn chuckled as he called forth the sword. As he reached for the hilt and grasped it, he felt that he would never find a sword like this again.
“Hmm,” Burn began to wonder. “Why didn’t you use this as your own on? If you ge it into a longsword, you certainly ge it into a spear tht?”
“Utilizing mine own body part as a on doth feel most peculiar,” Isaiah replied.
Burn narrowed his eyes in disgust at the swain.
“I jested. I employed it not, for I favor this one instead,” Isaiah deadpan called forth one of the spears as it flew into his grasp. “This is wrought from my te mother’s horn.”
Isaiah id it out: dragon body parts, including those impressive horns, were still tied to the dragon’s main body in some way. This meant they could shapeshift like dragons too, but only if the dragon gave it the old thumbs-up.
Now, once a dragon kicked the bucket, those body parts were pretty much stuck like that forever. That meant if you had some horns still attached to a dead dragon, they’d stay horns, aing them off required some serious tools and a craftsman who knew what they were doing.
Sihose horns lost their shapeshifting options post-mortem, they became more of a raw material. Sure, you could process them to create fancy ons or boost existing gear, but they’d be a shadow of their former selves.
ons made from those living, shapeshifting horns? Yeah, they were leagues tougher and more reliable. But good luck finding a dragon willing to chop off a bit of themselves for a on. They tend to be a bit attached to their bodies, after all.
Unless, of course, they suspected their days were numbered and figured, “Hey, why not leave a piee for the geion?”
“Hmm, I’m fttered,” Burn remarked, grasping the long sword with a practiced fidence.
He ba expertly in his hand, as if it were merely a dagger from the royal cutlery set, rather than a o for the kind of endeavors that generally ended with a fair amount of bloodshed. “So, now, what’s left is the oh-so-joyous spar.”
“e with,” Isaiah anded, his tone g the enthusiasm typically reserved for less deadly activities, like baking cookies.
They departed the on chamber, venturing deeper into the cave. To Burn’s surprise, they stumbled upon an expansive hall, illuminated by the faint glow of magical orbs, which did wonders for the cave’s surprisingly dreary vibe.
The cave stretched before them—an enormous, empty expanse punctuated only by bare ns reag skyward, resembling a forest that had long fotten its own purpose.
One might have thought a ck of vision had the resident artist pull an instaltion pie a particurly uninspired Tuesday, leaving this hall as ay testament to ambition gone horribly wrong.
Burn swung his new sword, the bde cutting through the stale air. Adapting to its weight was an act akin t a new retionship—except without the awkward small talk and iable breakdowns.
For a warrior, after all, a sword was aension of their very being, much like a limb. Acquiring a new sword was like going through a mid-life crisis, wherein one casually repces their own arm with a fshy new model, replete with all the bells and whistles one could hope for.
“Ready?” he asked, with the sort of bravado reserved for a man who does not know the true meaning of worry.
Isaiah raised his spear and chuckled. “Please.”
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