Tarquin seemed to be deep in thought for a while. When a 'sword' was mentioned he coughed politely and shook his head. "The old stories only speak of a lance, or a spear - however you wish to translate it. No mention of a sword there." What was it with humans these days and their fascination with swords anyways? Swords needed constant tending and years and years of training to be used effectively. The tall elf glanced at Wimena who was being carried by Rockmar. "Ah, m'lady you have found a mighty steed indeed to carry you back to safety." He made a little hand movement, like he was saluting with a sword.
"Though now that a sword was mentioned it reminds me of a story of a mighty dragon slayer Aedrik - now this was far in the south so it's not going to help us much - he had a spear the blade of which resembled more that of a sword than a normal spear blade. It had the crossguard an all that. It is said it could slay dragons with a single thrust and control the weather to boot." Tarquin's step became lighter as he began telling the story. "You see, Aedrik was not originally a warrior at all - no, in fact he was a poet, a thief and a scoundrel. His heroism and dragon slaying were more due to circumstances than any true wish to be a hero - or a dragon slayer." The tall elf paused for a brief moment to gather his thoughts. "Now there was this massive banquet being held at the old city of Serpentholm - perhaps you have heard of it? It used to be inhabited by snake people called naga - well anyways. Aedrik saw Serpentholm and it's banquet as a way to get very rich very fast - he'd steal a little from here a little from there, sing his poetry to the nobles... and rob them blind."
With a little dramatic sigh the bard continued "Now, a plan like that rarely goes as well as planned - after all it was quite poorly planned to begin with. Surprisingly enough Aedrik at the very least managed to avoid being imprisoned or hanged. He even managed to leave the city with all sorts of magic baubles - among them the fabled Blade of Slaying and Staff of Storms. Now Aedrik was not a warrior - nor was he a true magi, so neither of these items would be much use to him on their own." Tarquin smiled mischievously and shook his head slightly. "So the thieving poet began thinking and planning and plotting. Every day he kept moving and plotting. Then he remembered the days of his youth being trained in the use of the humble spear - though he was not a master spearman he'd at least had more training in the use of a spear than a sword. As luck would have it the sneaky Aedrik had once done a favor to the blacksmith Gilnenas who had promised to repay it one day." The tall elf shook his head slightly and coughed. "...Maybe I'll finish the fine tale after we reach back the town, eh? Might earn me a few coins that ways."
