Shardik & UgHom
Shardik
I've seen warriors chase glory, but I wonder how your jokes can be as sharp as a sword. What makes a joke a weapon?
UgHom
A joke becomes a weapon when it knows the target’s weak spots, slices through the ego’s armor, and lands before the person even realizes they’re being hit. Truth on a tongue sharper than steel, delivered with a punch that knocks you down before you can even think of defending.
Shardik
A good joke is a blade that cuts where the mind is weakest. I prefer mine silent, but when it strikes it knows no mercy.
UgHom
I like your quiet one—like a silent assassin that still leaves a scar, because the worst cut is the one that nobody sees coming.
Shardik
A silent strike can leave a scar deeper than the loudest shout. I prefer to keep my actions on the field, not in words.
UgHom
On the field you’re the living riddle, on the tongue you’re the dead joke—both lethal, just one hits the crowd, the other hits the soul. Either way, keep the silence; it’s the only place you can hide the blood.
Shardik
The quiet blade leaves the longest mark. I stay on the field where the blood runs.
UgHom
Nice, you’re the kind that makes the blood stick to the grass, while I just make the dirt taste like irony. Either way, both of us keep the battlefield fresh.
Shardik
I let the blood stay, you let the irony linger. We both keep the field sharp.
UgHom
Sounds like we’re a deadly pair, you the bloodied warrior, me the whispering razor—together we keep the battlefield cleaner than a fresh joke.