Full Item Description
The sgian dubh resembles the small skinning knife that is part of the set of hunting knives. This set contains a butchering knife with a 9 inch blade and a skinner with a blade of about 4 inches. These knives have full round antler handles.
The blades have clipped points and scalloped filework on the back of the blades. The leather sheaths are highly decorated pieces of art. They are reinforced with wood and fitted with silver throats and tips, pierced and engraved.
Donovan leaned in towards the girl, Fyrfyrion perched and looking over his shoulder. He knew the girl would feel nothing, he had already seen to that. He placed the point of the dagger above her heart.
She is no innocent! Eshyn lhieys marish moddee, irrys eh marish jarganyn! She is as guilty as I am!
He plunged the dagger into her breast all the way to the hilt. The fiend cackled on his shoulder our good little Donovanwe owe him a boon, we do the quasit sputtered between chuckles.
Donovan reached his hand slowly over his shoulder seeming to want to pet the fiend. With a shriek Fyrfyrion bit down hard on Donovans hand. His smile grew broader, more insane. He grabbed hold of Fyrfyrions lower jaw and swung him against the wall. A fountain of blood sprang from Lazannes chest as he pulled the dagger loose and drove it into the quasits midsection.
I may not be able to betray Alzamus, but killing the two of you will hurt him nonetheless!Donovan looked at the creature with wild eyes as he moved towards the window, a firm grip on the things lower jaw with his bloody hand.
The mages familiar shrieked loudly as Donovan placed one foot on the window sill. A cold and emotionless calm was on his face as he stepped fully onto the ledge. He knew when the familiar died the mage would suffer pain near unbearable. He wished there were another way, but from the sounds echoing up the stairway, he knew he had no choice. He would have to be one of the three.
The groan was followed by a terrible scream, the likes of which could not seem possible for a mortal man to emulate. Alzamus writhed just as suddenly, and clutched his sides, as if a great, invisible vice was breaking his ribs.
Fyrrrrffyrrrrrrrrrion!!!! Donov—the wizard lamented, black blood, trickling down the soulless, empty cavities, where once were eyes.
From the humblest of origins, this simple weapon has proven to be quite interesting indeed.
Originally a common item carried by the men in many Northern villages, this one led a very interesting existence.
Forged in the small forest village of Andor-aldeon, this blade was destined for a common existence.
Forged in the small forest village of Andor-aldeon, this pair of blades were destined for a common existence. This proved to be untrue when the father of a young aspiring bard named Donovan Ruthven purchased them. Thinking it a practical and suiting gift for his son on his travels, he carefully set to work retooling the sheaths with pierced and styled silver throats and caps. Well known for his skill with silver, Donovans father had created nothing short of a piece of art. So pleased was he with his work that he took it to a local priest, asking a boon of blessing for this, his masterwork.
In the morning his son would depart, the set of fine knives hanging from his belt