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Snippet: Long Iron
The Dime
wilowisp
"Oh, that was very foolish," Bluejay said, looking down at the blade piercing his midsection.  His face displayed mild annoyance, where Orin would have expected agony.  Instead of a rich blossom of blood soaking the Eldrin's creme shirt, it merely looked sliced and wrinkled.  "Very, very foolish."

Orin let go of the hilt of his blade, and it remained in the Eldrin, like a dart in the wall.  Backing away from what was not going to helpfully become Bluejay's corpse, he watched with horror as Bluejay wrapped his hands around the sword and began to slowly extract it.

"I thought better of you, Orin, I really did," Bluejay went on, his breathing labored but present.  "I could see this coming from that brat of a prince you follow.  He probably wanted my head the day we arrived.  But I would have expected you to talk him out of it."

With a final gasp, the sword was free, its silver glean as spotless as when Orin had pulled it from his scabbard.  Bluejay tossed it aside, and continued to prod at the hole it had left.  Orin raised his hand to signal the rest of the guard to rush in, but Bluejay looked up with a fierce and commanding glare.

"Do you really think ten swords will accomplish what one could not?" Bluejay spat at him.  "And do close your gaping mouth.  If it has come to this, the least we can do is look as little like agape hill folk while we do it."

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