Historical & non-historical scabbards.
Tailor-made with a distinct artistic disposition.
A custom DBK
designed one-of-a-kind scabbard.
Please enjoy all of the pictures, along
with the collaborative short story down below.
Back to the Scabbard Gallery
Collin Miller 'Dragonslayer'||Hand
Colored / Hand Painted||
A fantasy style locket harness system|
Custom Double-Belt Harness|| ||
Bronze 'antiqued' metalwork|| ||
||Custom bronze chape||
Custom bronze belt tips|
The following is a short story 'collaborative effort'
by the smith of the blade (Collin Miller) and myself to help 'bring the
sword & scabbard to life' so to speak. It provides a narrative and
mythology to them, and as a whole, provides more depth to the art. I
hope you enjoy it.
The sword shone cold and bright as its keen edge
cleaved deep, through the scales of the dragon's neck. A moment he
dreamed of since the day he recovered the sword from the ashes of his
burned home, his wife and children's bodies scorched by the serpent's
fire. The sword had turned black and gray, the blade cold and covered in
soot. He roughly polished the soot and grime off of the ancient weapon
that day, and now smiled grimly as the serpent's life blood gushed from
the wounds inflicted by it.
His gaze began to drift down, from the site of the dragons lifeless
body, down further until his eyes locked onto the ash covered ground
upon which he stood, noticing the blood slowly spreading across the
marbled stones, he caught himself and stepped back as the adrenaline and
shock began to fade. He started to check himself for wounds, noticing
immediately the fringed & torn clothing upon himself, the ash & soot
covering him...and blood. He immediately wondered if he had sustained
injury, thinking the blood was his own. But alas, he could not find any
wounds as he searched frantically up & down his body. During his
meticulous self-inspection, his gaze slowly wandered to the scabbard
strapped to his side. The scabbard was still completely intact and in
fact looked as though it had not been damaged at all during the battle,
save for the now flame darkened edges. A close encounter with the
dragon’s fiery breath during battle had singed & burned his clothing,
and should have greatly wounded him but it did not, to his astonishment.
He gazed in appreciation upon the scabbard, for which he often did, as
the details of the scabbard were layered in such a way that his eyes
would wander from one detail to the next, always finding something new
Staring at the scabbard, he then remembered the day when he had
recovered his family sword from the ash how it had initially appeared,
blackened and covered in soot. The scabbard lay in the corner, from
which his father had unsheathed the sword and tossed it into, was also
covered in ash, soot, and the grime of battle. But just as the sword,
the scabbard was amazingly intact & undamaged. The beautifully crafted
metalwork, glorious acanthus scrollwork, gleaming with gold & silver,
and decorated with exquisite dragon scale skin, from which only could
have survived by magic. As he could not explain how he had not taken any
damage from the dragon, not even a scratch. He pondered this for a
moment and wondered, “surely I should have...what magic is bestowed upon
As a young lad he was told stories by his uncle of mythical dragon
slayer warriors from the North, from which the greatest of them had
weapons imbued with magic, some so powerful that most dragons feared the
warriors that wielded them. One such legend, he remembered in particular
from those campfire stories, was a sword & scabbard worn by the greatest
dragon slayer of his time. The scabbard granted the wearer incredible
immunities, and the sword great vorpal powers. “This must be..but how?”
he said in a whisper to himself, and then thought “if only his father
had been wearing the scabbard, would it have saved his father? Would his
family still be alive?”