Where Indeed

It's just a knife.

Okay, it's not just a knife. It's a symbol of identity, it's a tool of survival, it's a focus and a question and an answer.

But it's still just a knife. I mean... it's not a special knife. Except that it's special to me, I suppose. I skinned a bear with that knife. I used that knife to cut my way out of a silverweb nest. That was the knife I had when the Sparrowhawks won the pennant. But it's not...

It's not made of anything special, I guess, is what I'm saying.  It's a simple, boring, metal knife.  It has a sharp side, and a dull side.  It has a worn-out rope grip. it has a scratch down the side from an Ahamkara tooth. Some fool was wearing it on a necklace.  Didn't do him much good, but it wasn't great for the knife.

But I digress. It's not an iridium blade, or an arc-charged stunner or a high-frequency vibro-blade.  It's just... a knife. It's my knife.  My trusty, old, rusty knife.

And it cuts through the enemies of Earth as though they are butter. So my question is this, Warlock... where is your knife?