"Humans think of plants as food and decoration, but they are living creatures in their own right."
Held in a lead sheath the blade of this sword is tipped with uranium and any wound from it, even a tiny one, will go cancerous, although the effects may not show up for months or even years.
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A wagon lays overturned on the forest road, bodies savaged by tooth and claw lay strewn about it, their weapons clean of blood, seemingly unused.
A lone man runs from an unseen threat, deeper into the forest, away from the grisly scene in the road. He stumbles, his foot having caught on a root. He lands hard, his lungs feel like lead. Panting, he comes to his knees. Two eyes of emerald light meet his, a low growl emanates from the beast, and his death is swift.