A long time ago, I bought a combat bastard sword. Understand this isn’t a dress up play time sword. It isn’t a presentation sword. It’s neither pretty nor light. It’s a true one and a half hand bastard sword that is fashioned exactly like those from centuries ago, except the steel is better. It takes and edge faster and holds that edge longer.
The sword lives near the door.
So a dear female friend was carrying my beloved daughter into my house, and curled up in the corner, right next to the door between my house and my garage, was a ground rattler. My friend freaked, as she hates snakes and it was inches from her sandled feet. She yelled for me to come and showed me where the little bastard was. I spent a few seconds figuring my options. Shooting was not one of them. The snake was surrounded by concrete and nice walls that I’d rather not replace. Then I remembered, oh right, the bastard sword by the door.
Look, I’m just saying … do you really need a sword? Maybe not. Then again…