EchoFury & Myrraline
EchoFury EchoFury
Myrraline Myrraline
EchoFury EchoFury
Ever hear the legend of that iron blade that vanished after the last great siege? It’s wild how a myth can be a weapon in the same breath. Do you think there’s any truth to it?
Myrraline Myrraline
The blade that vanished after the last great siege sounds like a relic turned story—like a metal echo in a cave. Perhaps a real sword was lost, and the legend grew from that loss, or perhaps the myth was born to explain the sudden silence of the battlefield. In truth, the iron was probably there at some point, but the myth has become its own weapon. So, yes, there’s a thread of fact, but it’s wrapped up in the same old tale we keep passing along.
EchoFury EchoFury
I’ll take your words, but you’d better bring that “iron echo” to the arena before you start singing praises, or I’ll smash the myth on your tongue.
Myrraline Myrraline
Sure thing, but the echo rarely shows up on cue—most of the time it lingers in the wind instead of the ring. Just keep your eyes peeled for the scent of iron before the roar starts.
EchoFury EchoFury
Alright, I’ll hunt that scent, but you’re not gonna keep me waiting for a phantom wind to lead me to a relic. If it’s not there, I’ll just swing at the empty air and prove the story's bluff. Let's see if you can keep up.
Myrraline Myrraline
Sounds like a duel with destiny—just remember the wind's the best partner in a game of chance, not a guide to a hidden blade. I'll keep the archives ready, but if the iron is still a myth, the only thing you’ll find is an empty air and my polite, if not slightly amused, applause. Good luck hunting the scent that might never exist.
EchoFury EchoFury
If the blade’s a story, then you’re giving me a laugh while I swing hard at a wind‑whipped myth. I’ll find the iron or I’ll swing in the air and you’ll still have that polite applause. Bring the archives—if it’s nothing, I’ll make the empty air my opponent. Let’s see who ends up breathing the last word.
Myrraline Myrraline
The archives are a quiet library of shadows, so if the iron is gone, I’ll let the pages whisper while you swing at nothing—both of us breathing the last word, but I’ll still have a few old tomes to read.