A young woman clad in rusted armor stands alone in the desert.
Behind her lies a village wrought from scraps of the ruined world—huts of rusted sheet metal and fractured concrete, torn fabric tents rustling in a dry wind. Before her looms the enormous frame of a towering machine—its rusted limbs screeching as it plods toward her, less than a hundred steps from crushing her village beneath its iron hooves.
She quickly turns to face her village where the frightened eyes of her people look on from the shadowy doorways, or peek between the shards of rubble which surround the dusty shanties. With a deep breath, she draws her blade from its scabbard, and pulls its gleaming tip across the sand at her feet.
“Only one of us shall cross this line today…” she utters, and turns around again to fix her eyes upon the advancing machine, gripping the hilt of her sword until her fingers throb.
Obviously in real life, a broadsword, spear, or battle-axe would make a pretty poor choice in a boxing match with a bulldozer.
Yet in the world of Terragaste where my upcoming novel takes place, characters frequently resort to medieval weapons to attack and destroy enormous chunks of machinery.
So the big question is—why medieval weapons?
I mean—wouldn’t a gun, a rocket launcher, or an EMP prove massively more effective?
Sure it would, but this begs the question, “Effective at what?”
At destroying machines?
Of course.
At weaving an exciting tale?
Maybe not.
Here’s ten reasons why the warriors of Terragaste use swords to dismantle industrial hardware.
Transported through time, a knight and his squire smash a car in Les Visiteurs
A young woman clad in rusted armor stands alone in the desert.
Behind her lies a village wrought from scraps of the ruined world—huts of rusted sheet metal and fractured concrete, torn fabric tents rustling in a dry wind. Before her looms the enormous frame of a towering machine—its rusted limbs screeching as it plods toward her, less than a hundred steps from crushing her village beneath its iron hooves.
She quickly turns to face her village where the frightened eyes of her people look on from the shadowy doorways, or peek between the shards of rubble which surround the dusty shanties. With a deep breath, she draws her blade from its scabbard, and pulls its gleaming tip across the sand at her feet.
“Only one of us shall cross this line today…” she utters, and turns around again to fix her eyes upon the advancing machine, gripping the hilt of her sword until her fingers throb.
Obviously in real life, a broadsword, spear, or battle-axe would make a pretty poor choice in a boxing match with a bulldozer. [click to continue…]