#behir is so tired and so done and so grumpy and so bitter

[raiswanson]

New Witch-Hag of Sorrelwood excerpt!

So I might have skipped right past 25k and gone right to 30k, oops lol. To cover for that we have another nice big snippet to show off!

(full ~500 word excerpt under the cut! Prev one [here])

~~~~~~~~~~~

I wasn’t really interested in their food or company, but found myself sitting atop a thrown blanket by the fire anyway. It was something to do at least. And maybe I’d learn something in the meantime. “Go ahead. Ask,” I grunted, giving them all a knowing look that colored their faces.

The group flushed and floundered for a moment until one finally blurted out, “How did you kill it?”

Direct. I appreciated that over the roundabout their Captain was giving me. “The only way you should ever try to kill a dragon if you have a choice: I let it wear itself out. Bled it a bit, then slashed its throat and put a blade right through the ribs, here,” I said, patting my side. “They have two hearts, of course, but you only need to pierce one if the beast is sufficiently weakened. Don’t ever try any of that beheading nonsense you hear about. The bones in their neck will crack your blade and they’ll eat you long before you manage to single out a vertebrae.”

Four heads bobbled in agreement, though I suspected they weren’t listening to the advice. It was all the same, at least. The odds of any of them encountering a dragon was slim in Eoden, and only barely more likely outside.

“But not so with a blade like yours, right sir...?” the closest one asked, gaze homing in on the hilt at my hip.

I allowed myself a small smile at their admiration. No better than children, these ones. They were luckiest of all I’d finished the dragon before their arrival—no doubt they’d have been first to go down. “Aye. EndClaw is of a special caliber, yes.”

The name brought a shivering energy from the four, and another leaned in close to gaze at it. “Is it really—”

I answered the usual questions before they could come.

Yes, my blade was crafted from a dragon.

Yes, I’d killed the owner.

Yes, it’d been my first dragon, and the source of one of my names.

Yes, the dragon had been one capable of transformation, which gave the blade its ability to change form.

No, it hadn’t been made from a claw, but I’d already lost their attention by the time I got to that.

Creative license, the sorcerer who’d made it for me had claimed.

Gasps went around as I held EndClaw out for them to see, and I shook my head as they inevitably tried to shift its shape for themselves. The bespelled tooth would only change if magic was channeled into it, and such a skill was incredibly rare in Eoden outside of the royal family. But even in resting state, as a simple dagger, anyone had to admit it was a beautiful piece of work. The sorcerer had been a fool with no sense in his head, but he had known how to craft a damn fine weapon.