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not to be confused with any other similarly named titles
And another item lent by Unferth
at that moment of need was of no small importance:
the brehon handed him a hilted weapon,
a rare and ancient sword named Hrunting.
The iron blade with its ill-boding patterns
had been tempered in blood. It had never failed
the hand of anyone who hefted it in battle,
anyone who had fought and faced the worst
in the gap of danger. This was not the first time
it had been called to perform heroic feats.
Beowulf, lines 1455-1458
You can’t hear the end credits over the loud slurping of your large soda. The lights begin to glow, signaling the awaited departure of the audience from the theater. You choose to stay. You think its been movie three of the five you choose to see in the old theater. Nobody is around to catch you; no usher, no fellow moviegoing viewer. This is how you like to spend your Wednesdays. Catching flicks released just the week before in empty theaters. Truly a patrician lifestyle.
After enough time, you get bored of the credit scrawl and decide to take a visit to the bathroom. Thunderous piss hits the back white of the urinal. You moan a little too loud, but you don’t think anybody is there to see. After you shake and flush, you turn to hear the faucet quickly turn on and off as a gentleman from the stall washes his hands and rushes out. He seems to have left something on the sink. Its a sword.
You haven’t ever seen a sword — not in real life anyways, plenty of role playing games and movies have made you familiar with what a sword looks like and what its uses are. This sword seems to have a green glow around it. Huh, how’d it get like that? You pick it up. It feels very heavy, so you have to use both hands. The blade is about three feet long, and the hilt about six inches or so. You decide to be a good samaritan and call out to the gentleman as he leaves.
“Hey sir, I think this is yo—“
As you call out, blade pointed away from you, the gentleman turns quickly. His turn was so abrupt that it appears his upper chest was pierced by the blade. You gasp, and immediately drop the sword. As you do however, the man drops forward on his knees, but the hilt hits the floor sooner and soon the entire three feet of metal goes through his heart.
“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I just— I— wait here, I can get help—“
You can’t move though. You haven’t ever seen a man die. Or killed one. Or seen a sword go through someone like that. The light in the man’s eyes goes out, and you are left with a gaping mouthed body fallen on the floor.
Your first instinct is to hide the evidence. But as you grab the grip, the hilt grows warm. Before you know it, the sword seems to turn into a wisp of light. It retreats from the gaping red wound into the palm of your hand.
“Wh-wh-what’s going on…”
>>
The evidence is certainly gone, but the body still remains. You don’t want to talk to the authorities so you just try to stay calm and walk out and hopefully attract no suspicion. Just as you open the door, a man in a trench coat and baseball hat faces you. He moves his eyes from you to the body behind you.
“I—I can explain—“
He waits for an explanation but you chicken out and run past him.
“Hey! Wait up!”
The man seems to continue coming after you. You hear some yelps and laughs from the movie staff and other movie watchers before you run outside in the parking lot. You decide to block his voice out and fumble the keys to your car. The other guy shouts “I just want to talk!” and keeps running on foot. You manage to get into the car and start it. You have enough time to back out of the parking lot. What do you want to do?
> Run over the man
> Stop the car and talk to the man
> Drive away
>>
>>1784826
> Drive away
Run like we have killed someone...oh wait..
>>
>>1784826
> Drive away
>>
>>1784826
>Stop the car and talk to the man
>Be prepared to drive away if he tries anything.
>>
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You decide to just drive away. The man is left alone in the parking lot, disappearing in the background. Even though you don’t see him get into a car, you begin driving a little faster and erratically to throw anyone you think may be on your tail. The highway comes up and after twenty minutes of driving you pull out into another exit and park near a local library.
You park in a hidden parking spot and calm yourself by listening to the radio. Local news seems to blare on.
“In a bizarre local case, a dead body of a thirty two year old white male Alan Colby has been discovered in the Palace Theater Complex off Interstate 55. Police say the cause of death seems to be piercing of the heart via a large bladed weapon, likely a sword as onlookers pointed out moments ago Mr. Colby attempted to impress a female cashier by showing her his ‘sword’, allegedly willing it from nothing by calling out the name of the mystical weapon, ’Fortune’. She is taken under custody and police have put out notice of the possible perpetrator, white male approximately 5’11” and 200 lb.”
“In the world, our correspondent has a special report on the nature of the Islamic State’s expansion efforts in North Africa—“
You turn off the radio, sighing in relief. They don’t know your name. That’s good for now. You also learned about the name of the sword. If the news reports are true, you can will the sword to be by saying its name. You climb out and stretch your hand out far.
“Fortune”
The sword wills out into existence, expanding out from the cross guard up into the blade’s tip and down to the pommel. The weight of the blade is much less now, or you have magically gained strength. Which isn’t out of the realm of possibility today. You give the sword a couple of swings. It swings like a child’s toy. Something you would know very well, you think sadly. But what is this weapon? And how do you get rid of it?
“Banished!” you scream. The sword still stays.
“Disarm!”
Nothing happens again.
>>
“Uhm, Fortune?” the sword blinks away in the same manner as it had appeared. At least now you know how to summon and unsummon it.
Now that you think of it, hadn’t you heard something about weird swords in the world? There was that thing on the radio you thought you heard before you turned it off, wasn’t there reports that locals claimed that the caliphate’s power came from magic swords? Coming to think of it, there was talk of a theft in museums around the world of ancient martial artifacts. The feds also seem to be holding siege in some states because of alleged cults, but you only heard that from conversations while getting your popcorn in the theater. You don’t follow the world events too often, sad to say.
You enter the library and decide to look up on the computer something about swords. You type in sword and America. Tons of articles pop up about very nerdy things, but you find a handful about reports of unusual acts or militant organizations popping up, each with a claim that a sword was responsible. Which one should you look into?
> Utah
> Wisconsin
> Florida
> Texas
> You know have the Sword of (mis)Fortune! In combat, you may roll an additional 1d5 to determine bonus damage, and outside combat you can pursue risky actions by rolling a 1d100, but be wary of what luck you may get! I will choose best of three rolls in general, and you can choose to exercise this option any time.
>>
>>1785038
> Utah Headline: Mormon State Secession Because of Magical Sword?
> Wisconsin: Why You Shouldn't Laugh At The Cheese King
> Florida: Women Adore Him! Men Envy Him! Find Out Why Anaconda Is Florida's Most Wanted -- By All!
> Texas: Mass Prison Escapes Speculated Due To 'El Terremoto'
>>
>>1785471
texas, that looks like its got a bloody sword. maybe even a talking one
>>
>>1785524
You begin to read the article. Apparently, a bunch of jailbirds have been sprung and even though the state has sent troopers to ambush the would be perpetrators, every mission has been unsuccessful.
The likely suspect has everything against him -- video, confession, testimonies, etc. Yet, every attempt at arrest has led to violent confrontation, of which the man emerges unscathed. He has had some ability to create cracks in prisons, collapsing certain walls to allow inmates to escape. His army of criminals assist in picking up more prisoners and fighting off what guards are there.
You are intrigued and smirk at the thought that the guy might have a sword like yours, but then so what?
You log out and leave the library, not certain of what to do. A man comes up to you. "Hey man, gotta cigarette?"
You shake your head, "Unfortunately, no I don't".
The man screams and runs away. You give a huh at his reaction. You turn and find sirens and screeches of police cars coming off the ramps and surrounding you.
"Drop the sword sir! Now!"
"Wh-what? I don't have a sword!"
You hold your hands up in surrender and see the sword in your main hand. Huh, you must've summoned it by accident.
"This isn't mine! Someone gave it to me!"
"Drop the weapon and lie face down on the ground!"
"B-But... I didn't..."
"I think he's gonna swing! Shoot to kill, shoot to kill!"
You scream as the bullets hit your body. You find they hurt a lot, but you don't feel any more different than having that baseball hit you in the shoulder in middle school. There's not even any blood where the bullet holes are. You pick at a wound, and your body seems to be pushing the bullets out. The wound closes up, albeit with a sore redness.
"Well how about that...I think I'm immortal." Is this some sort of dream?
The hail of bullets interrupt the thought. No, definitely not.
"Drop the weapon and lie face down, hands behind your back!"
If the bullets can't hurt you, this fight seems to be totally in your favor. Perhaps its time to put this sword to use?
(Roll 1d100)
> Attack the officers to kill
> Attack the officers, but not to kill
> Run away
> Give up yourself
>>
>>1785879
>> Run away
"I'm not guilty! fuck you!"
>>
Rolled 12 (1d100)
>>1785906
>>
Rolled 77 (1d100)
>nokill
>>
Rolled 98 (1d100)
>>1785879
>> Attack the officers, but not to kill
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