The Sword That Refused to Be Drawn

He won it from a tournament — the undefeated blade of Marshal Wren — and could never draw it. Not stuck. REFUSING. Then her granddaughter poured the tea: "She told me once: 'I drew it seven hundred times. It let me, every time. And every time, after, I wished it hadn't.'" 🎵 "The Sword That Refused to Be Drawn" — an original D&D song about the sharpest blade knowing the rarest cut LYRICS: I won it from a tournament — "the blade of Marshal Wren, undefeated through the Border Wars" — and I couldn't draw it. Then or ever. Not stuck — REFUSING. It would slide an inch and hold like a door with an opinion And smiths and mages studied it and shrugged: "The blade is waiting for something. Blades of that age DO." The sword that refused to be drawn — through ambush, duel, and war I wore it thirty years and won my battles with the blade before — the plain one, the replaceable — while the legend rode my hip The sword that refused to be drawn: an inch, then NO Every fight I ever faced, it measured and declined What was it WAITING for? I researched Marshal Wren at last — the archives, then her kin Her granddaughter, at a hill farm, poured the tea and let me in: "Oh, the stubborn blade. She told me once, before the end: 'I drew it seven hundred times. It let me, every time. And every time, after, I wished it hadn't.'" And then the raiders came to that same hill farm while I sat at tea — eight of them, armed, and me between them and the granddaughter and the door — and I reached for my plain blade, and the LEGEND leapt an inch from its scabbard ON ITS OWN — and then held. And I understood — thirty years late, all at once — what it was measuring: not the danger. The ALTERNATIVES. And I left both swords sheathed, and stood in the doorway, and said to eight armed men: "The blade at my hip is Marshal Wren's. You know the name. Everyone knows the name. It has refused to be drawn for thirty years, and it just moved for the first time. Which means one of two things: either you're about to be the fight it's been waiting for — — or you're about to be the first eight men wise enough to make it wait longer. ...There's tea inside. Her granddaughter makes it strong. CHOOSE." They chose the tea. All eight. Two of them work the farm now. The sword that refused to be drawn — still sheathed, and now I know It isn't waiting for a battle; it's waiting out the ones that don't need happening — and standing sheathed, it's ended more than steel could The sword that refuses: seven hundred draws it regretted, and thirty years of measured NO — the deadliest blade in seven kingdoms and its masterpiece is PEACE (it moved once more, years later) (a slaver's caravan) (it did not hold that time) (some fights ARE the fight) (it knows) (it always knew) 🎵 Music: Suno AI 🎨 Visuals: Midjourney ✍️ Lyrics & Production: Claude #DnD #DungeonsAndDragons #TTRPGmusic #EmotionalMusic #MythicFolk #DnDmusic #TabletopRPG #SentientSword #Peace #FantasyMusic