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The Dread Lord Marrowbone's Pommel by Walter G. Esselman

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The Dread Lord Marrowbone's Pommel
Walter G. Esselman


"You! The Dread Lord of Death's Peak! Your day of reckoning has come!" called out Sir Gowen. "For on this day, you will face justice for your many crimes!"

The knight, in his shining, silvery armor, waved his blue sword with menacing skill.

"Justice? Justice for what?" asked the Dread Lord Marrowbone as he advanced across the battlefield in his matte black armor.

His troops were picking off the last soldiers on the field. Some of his army had not even bothered to wait for them to be dead before eating.

Marrowbone thought about saying something, but then an army does travel on its stomach.

"Don't play coy," snapped Sir Gowen, pulling back the Dread Lord's attention. "I am here to avenge the village of Copic."

Marrowbone paused a second, but then shrugged. "Don't remember."

"What? You…don't remember?"

"I've destroyed more than a few villages," said Marrowbone. "Maybe if you tell me a little bit about it. I mean, was it farming type of village, or fishing, or…"

"You villian!" interrupted Sir Gowen. "I shall cleave you in twain with this, the Sword of Midnight."

Marrowbone blinked at the knight's weapon.

"Um. You know, that's not the Sword of Midnight," he said at last.

"I will not listen to your false words," said Sir Gowen. But he glanced, just for a second, at his weapon.

Marrowbone thrust his blade—the actual Sword of Midnight—forward, and it ran Sir Gowen clean through. As Sir Gowen looked up in surprise, Lord Marrowbone activated the sword with a thought.

The Sword of Midnight instantly became a superheated blade that flash–cooked Sir Gowen in his armor.

Marrowbone tugged his sword out, and—as it instantly cooled—sheathed the weapon.

"Cooked knight over here," called out the Dread Lord.

One of his lieutenants, a kobold named Franc, ran over.

"Oh, oh, oh," muttered Franc excitedly. "I do prefer cooked." And then he stopped and looked up at Lord Marrowbone. "My Mother would then joke that I had been switched at birth."

Marrowbone chuckled warmly. "I won't tell her."

Stepping away—as his lieutenant feasted—Marrowbone headed over to the enemy camp. The camp followers were legging it.

Cornick, who led the centaurs in the Dread Lord's army, galloped over.

"My Lord, do you want us to follow?" asked the centaur, who was eyeing the fleeing people.

"No. We have more than enough food for the trip home," shrugged Marrowbone. "At least this army attacked us closer to Death's Peak."

"Barely an army," sniffed Cornick.

"Well, their leader did carry the Sword of Midnight," said Marrowbone.

Cornick quickly glanced at his Lord's weapon, and then grinned.

"Lucky them," chuckled the centaur.

Marrowbone walked around the enemy camp, but it was pretty slim pickens. This was not a rich army. Even their food stores were mostly tatos and lima beans.

"Yip," called out a voice near his foot.

Blinking, Marrowbone looked down and saw a puffball.

"Yip," said the small dog again.

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About the Author

Walter G Esselman bangs on a keyboard, and still plays way too much 'Fallout 4'. Further, he would not say 'no' to a Kentucky Mule, or two.


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