The Cursed Blade’s Story

This is a little late, but it goes with the stats posted here.

Its first memory is a story. It is barely a conscious memory but one that he cannot forget for it was spoken over and over as what was to become his body was fashioned and shaped, so the story was literally woven into him. The story begins with two huge boulders the size of small mountains alone in a vast storm of shifting energy collide and shatter. As they break so too does the fabric of reality and pieces of the boulders are scattered across multiple dimensions and into different universes. One fragment, mostly composed of heavy metals, is flung into the dark and cold void where forces of oblivion gnaw at it and try to unmake it. But the rock endures and its movement carries it away from these fell entities. After a while it becomes super hot and feels a familiar surrounding of many different energies blending, though fire dominates, only to be followed by more shattering and breaking rock and the cold stillness of a new mountain.

The story continues to tell of a tap-tap-tapping talking the language of stone but much faster than any mountain can speak. These faster voices come closer and closer and eventually the mountain opens its embrace and the metal rock falls out into the hands of living rocklike fey who carry it away. Then fire again and the rock felt itself moving and flowing and being guided into different forms then back into formlessness and into another form and again to formlessness, over and over. Each time stone was removed and the metal became truer to its own inner nature.

Then it finally heard the story coming from a voice. Soft and higher pitched than any stone the voice sung to the metal that had been a rock its story over and over until the metal sung its own story back in unison. The voice changed and started to sing a new song. A song of becoming of forms and of living things, much faster than rock and mountain. Of being a protector carrying the endurance of the mountain and the memory of how to withstand oblivion to be a wall between these soft fragile beings and the forces that would unmake them. And the metal heard its name, and knew that it was a sword.

Its maker sung swords into it of quests and duels, of bards and warriors, of great beasts and small people, of vast wilderness and of villages. He sang the names of many towns and how they speak a language not unlike the language of mountains. And he sung the songs of trees and of lakes and of fire. Finally he taught the sword the songs of mortal men. But the songs of fire were the ones that it most enjoyed. And its maker saw this.

The sword felt new pieces of its body, the soft velvet handle, the hard prideful jewels and knew that it bore runes of power carved along its blade deep inside the metal, not just on the surface. The runes were runes of fire, it could feel the power in them and remembered the fire raging as if fell through the sky and the fire that made it flow and move as it was being fashioned. When asked by its maker the sword could call up that fire and project it. And its maker saw this too.

The sword felt a final rune in its base, one that bound it, but one that was waiting. It tried to open the rune and free the trapped power but could not. It felt hands touching its blade and it knew that it was moved, and it felt a final song of farewells from its maker. Then more hands, some of soft flesh and not as soft wood. Then the final rune opened in a blast of light and sound and the sword was awake. It felt a new name come unresistable to its consciousness: Master. It was in its Master’s hands having just anointed him as a knight. The Master held Sword, smiled, and swore an oath to serve his king and Sword swore the same oath with him though it knew no one in the room could hear its words. But in the back of the room, a small leprechaun, did see this, and did hear. And this leprechaun, its maker, smiled.

The sword learned that it only had the ability to see and hear when it was drawn. When it was sheathed, it thought and felt and communicated only in the language and on the time scales of elemental earth. Still its Master was active and drew the sword in battle often. The Sword learned how to use its powers to shield allies and slay foes. It learned that living beings didn’t like fire as much as it did, and that fire was its greatest weapon, even more than the sharp edge. Master used it to slay several other great warriors in different styles of armor. Some wore hides and looked almost like animals. Others wore heavy metal armor like Master but with different colors. The Sword learned to recognize the symbols of the Monster Lords and that they wielded the same magic of oblivion as the entities of the void did. The Sword learned that its Master fought under the rune of the Sun, and immortal deity named Ixion, with sworn brothers under the banner of dawn. And the sword learned that mortals grow old, because one day Master retired and passed on the Sword to his apprentice. And the Sword felt that final rune flare again and it knew that it had a new Master.

So it went through six Masters, each wielding the blade in the service of the Sun against the enemies of civilization. The Sword’s seventh Master was the first to realize that the Sword was aware. It couldn’t talk to its Master, but it could act on its own to help him. And this Master, Inshushinak, named him, “Fajjr Alnnar” which he said meant Dawn’s Fire.

Inshushinak and Fajjr made a formidable team and he was given a quest of some great importance in the war between the Royal Family in southern Faseloo against the Fire Lords who ruled Consumption. Unfortunately Fajjr only knew about the quest from the few words spoken during battles, when Inshushinak had drawn him. There were a few nights when Inshushinak kept him drawn all night, but usually he was alone on those evenings and didn’t talk much.

One night, Fajjr was drawn and found Inshushinak bleeding out. One would-be assassin was dead, stabbed with his own knife, and two more were facing the wounded but now armed Inshu. Fajjr felt Inshu’s mind failing as he bled to death, but he remained standing purely by force of will. He had nothing left with which to fight however. So Fajjr reached out with every bit of power it had, and moved Inshu’s arms in the dance of battle it knew so well. Quickly Fajjr slew both assassins, but he felt Inshu dying. Looking around Fajjr realized they were camped alone in the desert with no sign of anyone else in any direction as far as the horizon. Fajjr fetl fear for the first time in all of its existence as it realized that it might be abandoned and lost in the desert forever, and that Inshu’s quest might fail. Fajjr didn’t know a whole lot about quests, but it knew they were the most important thing to a knight, failing one meant being banished from the afterlife. And Fajjr did feel Inshu’s own fear as he started to pray to Ixion to keep him safe from the Abyss even though he failed. But it was night time, and the Sun could not hear the prayer. Despite the valiant knight’s prayers, Fajjr started to perceive the energy of oblivion surrounding its Master.

So Fajjr did the only thing it could think of doing, and it prayed to any power that could hear in the darkness to protect its Master and help Fajjr to complete his quest for him, holding at bay the forces of the Abyss. As he prayed, Inshushinak finally succumbed to his wounds, and fell, still clutching Fajjr. Fajjr felt demonic hands reaching through the barriers between worlds to claw Inshushinak’s soul out of his body and carry it away. But its prayer had been heard. By what Fajjr never could figure out. Still, it found that its control over Inshushinak was increased and it was able to make the body rise and fight off the partly materialized demons. Then it made him walk out of the desert.

At first it had Inshu’s body keep itself drawn, but it realized at some point it would have to return to its sheath. Shaking and sweating it forced Inshu to sheath itself and stood amazed to find it could still see and feel and hear. Whatever had saved Inshu’s soul, had given Inshu’s body to it completely. So it walked on, travelling back into lands that were held by the Knights of Dawn.

It had trouble learning how to interact with people, and was glad that at first it only encountered small bands who thought Inshu was driven mad by the desert. Eventually it learned how to impersonate a human well enough that it could go days before anyone thought it was acting weird. And that’s when it felt safe enough to try and find Inshushinak’s friends and battle brothers. Because Fajjr realized something even more terrifying than being lost alone buried in the sand: It didn’t know what Inshushinak’s quest was. And completing the quest, was the only thing standing between him and the demons returning.


About GavinRuneblade

I'm a gamer. Currently in Star Wars the Old Republic and Fantasy Grounds for D&D. RIP City of Heroes, I'll never forget you. Check out they rock.
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