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- Sep 24, 2010
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Hello
It is 37 cm long, the blade is 23.5 cm long, 4.1 cm wide and 4 mm thick.
It has stabilized burl handle and bronze crossguard with a bit of crimson resin and ancient camee at its end.
The damascus blade has been forged of 5160, 1.2516 and L6 with around 70 layers.
The sheath is made of thick cowhide.
It is available
The choke brings the awakening, which drags him back from the rim of oblivion. A heavy cough accompanied by nausea forces the poisoning salt water out of the lungs, leaving a bitter taste behind.
Seemingly no one else survived the storm, no corpses, no ship, only some weathered crates washed ashore can be found, with their edges poking out under the soft yellow sand, pointing towards the starlit sky, mocking heaven itself.
A heavy branch, previously spending its existence as a driftwood, helps to smash one of the nearby crates, scattering its bellies contents all over the beach. Some clothes, a piece of map, obviously a shred of a larger one, and a quite welcomed item: a blade! Not a real weapon, but decent enough if needed.
Abruptly a blunt blow pestles the nights peace as a small stone bounces off of the back of his head, leaving a nearly painful, but annoyingly plangent vibration in his skull.
A nearby bush rustles as he turns, but the nights gaping void swallows instantly the sound of the small creature's retreat into the woods, leaving him with nothing but an oafish and clueless expression on his face.
Over the deserted beach, beyond the forest he suddenly perceives a suspicious ancient ruin, seemingly undisturbed for centuries.
Well... there is nothing else to do on this strand...and he does have a blade at least...
It is 37 cm long, the blade is 23.5 cm long, 4.1 cm wide and 4 mm thick.
It has stabilized burl handle and bronze crossguard with a bit of crimson resin and ancient camee at its end.
The damascus blade has been forged of 5160, 1.2516 and L6 with around 70 layers.
The sheath is made of thick cowhide.
It is available
The choke brings the awakening, which drags him back from the rim of oblivion. A heavy cough accompanied by nausea forces the poisoning salt water out of the lungs, leaving a bitter taste behind.
Seemingly no one else survived the storm, no corpses, no ship, only some weathered crates washed ashore can be found, with their edges poking out under the soft yellow sand, pointing towards the starlit sky, mocking heaven itself.
A heavy branch, previously spending its existence as a driftwood, helps to smash one of the nearby crates, scattering its bellies contents all over the beach. Some clothes, a piece of map, obviously a shred of a larger one, and a quite welcomed item: a blade! Not a real weapon, but decent enough if needed.
Abruptly a blunt blow pestles the nights peace as a small stone bounces off of the back of his head, leaving a nearly painful, but annoyingly plangent vibration in his skull.
A nearby bush rustles as he turns, but the nights gaping void swallows instantly the sound of the small creature's retreat into the woods, leaving him with nothing but an oafish and clueless expression on his face.
Over the deserted beach, beyond the forest he suddenly perceives a suspicious ancient ruin, seemingly undisturbed for centuries.
Well... there is nothing else to do on this strand...and he does have a blade at least...
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