I posted about my favorite D&D module the other day, and one of the treasures in that adventure was an intelligent, dragon-slaying long sword. I got to thinking about it, and I wondered: just what would a conversation with that sword be like? So if you’ll indulge me a bit of humor, here’s my thoughts on how a conversation with an intelligent, dragon-slaying long sword would go:
[Player]: So, what’s it like being an intelligent sword?
[Sword]: How do you mean?
[Player]: Well, what do you do?
[Sword]: I slay dragons.
[Player]: Yes, but besides that. What do you do with yourself when there are no dragons around to slay.
[Sword]: I think about slaying dragons. By the way, your palm is rather sweaty, could you… yes, that’s better, thanks. You know, you’d get a better swing if you choked up on my hilt a bit more. It will bring more of your back into the swing.
[Player]: Thanks! I wondered why I kept having to hit those kobolds twice to kill them.
[Sword]: No problem at all, though I will say slaying kobolds is somewhat…beneath…a sword of my caliber. By the way, you also need to work on your follow-through. You’re pushing too much off to your right when you don’t follow all the way through the swing.
[Player]: Wouldn’t that leave me open to counter attacks?
[Sword]: Your enemy would likely already be dead.
[Player]: Ah. Well, yes. And sorry about the kobolds.
[Sword]: No, no, I understand. Had to get through them to rescue the fair maiden.
[Player]: I rescued her all right!
[Sword]: Ew. Thank you for that disturbing visual.
[Player]: What? Why? I thought you were a male sword?
[Sword]: I am neither male nor female. I’m a sword. What, did you think swords mated? Is that where you think daggers come from?
[Sword]: But what?
[Player]: Well, you know, I…I don’t know. I guess I just thought you were…I mean swords are kind of shaped like…
[Sword]: Oh, and now we’re profiling. Wonderful. First I get saddled with a doofus who can’t swing me properly, and now I find out he’s a racist!
[Player]: What? No! I’m not a racist. Some of my best friends are swords. Er…that is…they own swords.
[Sword]: Yes, they own them. As in slavery. Racist ass motherfucker.
[Player]: Look, I’m sorry. How can I make this up to you?
[Sword]: Find a dragon to slay?
[Player]: You really like that, huh?
[Sword]: Of course. It’s what I’m for. It fills me with a tremendous joy when I slide through dragonscales and into tender flesh. I suppose the closest analogy for you would be…orgasm.
[Sword]: Well, think about it. Biological organisms like you are driven by the imperative to reproduce. The ultimate expression of that imperative is the orgasm. For me, slaying a dragon is the same thing.
[Sword]: You asked.
[Player]: I guess so. Well, back to the scabbard with you.
[Sword]: As you wish. Could you please wash your hands before you draw me next time? It’s bad enough thinking about what you do with that hand when no one else is around, let alone all the dirt and grime you get on it. Not to mention, you scratch your ass with that hand.
[Player, interrupted mid-scratch]: Oh…sorry.
[Sword]: It’s o.k. [muttering low] racist.