Another weekend, another Nerd Convention.
Hey, when you make weapons for a living, you go where the
money is. And the money is in Elven Daggers and Klingon… Whatevers.
It was closing, and a loud thump from the next booth made me
jump as I reached for a cutlass. I cut my hand, hazard of the job, and as I
looked for a cloth I saw the Nerd standing there.
He/she was wearing a long black robe, and impressive bony
gloves.
“Sorry, we’re closed. And I only do scythes by appointment.”
Then I noticed that the cut was quite deep…
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