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K'a Zhazo urwa k'a Thzialakazh


'Rats! What an odd lot they were. Takin me under Centre t' kill rats. Who goes around killin rats other than small dogs an' hungry street urchins?
'Where's that bloody buckle got to? Oh, by the hells! I jes had it here in front o' me. Under here? No. Of course! Under that curious bug shell; there it is! I'll throw that bloody shell out.
'And bugs! By the hells! they were worse than the rats. Anyone'd think I were aimin t' make a pest queller out o' meself at this rate.
'Right, thread this leather through 'ere like so and... Oh bugger! Too short. I'll need t' get another length.
'Bugs and rats and then bloody ghouls and ghosts and walkin skeletons! If this is what provin me worth involves, I'm not sure it's worth it. Not that I didn't give em a good go, mind you! Heheheh...
'Right this time... Thread the leather through here and then... tie it through here... pull it tight... There, that should do. 'Hmmm, now to sharpen that new blade.
'O' course they weren't much help. Jes stood around mostly, yellin encouragement and watchin me get assaulted on all sides by vermin and bloody horrors from beyond the grave! They were nice fellas though. Didn't even want no loot. Never met nobody fool enough t' give away their share o' the loot before. Heheheh! Ceptin maybe Sirel. They musta realised I did all the heavy liftin. Now, what were their names? There was the knife obsessed one. He was Johnny. And the one with the outlandish, glowing eyes, "Jeeow" somethinorather I think. And the other fella with the wolf on his head. "Fuh", I think he was. What an odd lot. Friendly fellas though.
'Now, where's that blade got to?'

Two dwarves, one old and kindly looking, the other young and rough-hewn, share a pint at Stormcrest.
"Aye, an I been t' Dregar even, Sirel! DREGAR! Never thought I'd go t' Dregar."
"Hahaha! Easy lad. Any dwarf'd think you'd been to the deep and met Sulterio himself. There's a way to get to Dregar just outside."
"An' I got this new blade! Look!" The younger dwarf unsheaths a shining, wide-bladed scimitar and waves it around making fighting sounds and parrying imagined blows.
Sirel shakes his head in amusement, chuckling "Well now, that is a lovely blade, Belgar. Let's have a look at it."
Belgar flicks the scimitar behind his back and into the air, over his head, then thrusts his arm out in front of him, allowing the flat of the blade to fall to rest, on the point of balance, across the back of his hand. He falters for a moment and nearly drops the weapon before snatching the blade by the back edge and extending the hilt end to Sirel who rolls his eyes.
"Give it here, ye bloody maniac; you'll cut your hand off."
Sirel surveys the weapon, extending it and peering down the length. "Obviously not of dwarven craft but serviceable nonetheless. Where'd ye come by this?"
"I met this fellar, in Center, after I struck out on me own. Just goes by 'Johnny'. Anyhow, I let him knock around wit' me a bit an' 'e gave me this blade. It weren't o' th' best quality but it were pretty good fer dealin t' kobolds an' such. I liked it so much, I went an' bought a better one. An', since then, Johnny's given me a few tips on how t' use it proper. What I likes best about it is, after a choppin strike, the blade slides easy from the point o' impact, through th' cutting, motion, so as ye don't get her stuck in whatever monstrosity yer hackin up."
"Ahhh yes, k'a zhazo urwa k'a thzialakazh for you then, is it?" the old dwarf replies, squinting and turning the blade about in the light.
"'Ka Zazo' what?"
"K'a zhazo!" Sirel says, more deliberately, turning to look Belgar straight in the eye. "K'a zhazo urwa k'a thzialakazh," he repeats slowly. "Or, in common, 'the way of the scimitar.'"
"K'a zhazo urwa k'a thzialakazh," the young dwarf murmurs thoughtfully. "Aye, that's me."


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