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 to admire.

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 this?”

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?”