The Fanatic's Drunken Sword

A drunken sword, restored to its full form. Old knocks were never smoothed away; the patches of new forging sit beside the original patterning on the blade, the guard and the pommel. Whoever repaired it was no master craftsman and made no effort to hide the work, yet the straightness and the spring of the blade were both brought back.

It is not a heavy weapon, yet it comes out of the scabbard with a loose, unhurried swing to it — less like drawing a weapon than lifting a jug that is not yet empty.

Drinking awakens its power. Once the drink takes hold the sword leaves the hand and floats, holding its own angle in the air instead of answering to the wrist.

That is how it reaches distant enemies, and why its damage no longer falls off over distance — the one place it differs most from an ordinary long sword.

Its fighting style therefore drifts: the wielder gives ground while the blade advances, pinning the enemy at a range they cannot close.

Once the sword leaves the hand the fight splits in two: the wielder handles the retreat, the blade handles the advance. Chase either one and the other takes you.

The name holds two meanings at once: the refusal to let go, and the refusal to sober up.

The sword was once broken and has since been repaired. The scars were left in place, and the new forging meets the old grain unevenly — not tidy to look at, but serviceable in the hand.

The word for fanatic is no insult here. Drink is the spark, the sword is the temper, and the two together make a weapon that will not be drawn by ordinary rules.