Dragonfang

“No! I am the King!” Anger pulsed in his neck. He reached for his eleven-foot long sword.

The hag cackled, like grinding stones. “Gyrpe is too late. What’s done cannot be undone.”

The king’s eyes smoldered. He spat bitterly, lifting the massive clever of doom.

Her eyes widened. “My what a large weapon you have. It must be ten-foot.”

“Fear not, Medusa. I wouldn’t hack you down with a common ten-foot sword.”

The cauldron boiled thick and green. “Your kingdom is a barnyard. A livelihood of livestock awaits.”

“But Dragonfang is eleven feet long,” he growled, swinging.

(100 words)

Picture linked via Josh Mosey.

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