Order of the Tainted Shade

Memories of the Past

It had happened finally. He had forseen with the help of the Absolute Night that his reign with the sword would soon be finished and it had come to pass. The curse, ever present, beckoned and called for a new owner and soon it's will won out over the Tacticians careful planning and he was doomed.

Four of them, three seperate clans, all unified under the purpose that the sword had to go and that the Tacticians power had become a threat. His armor was taken by the Church's demonic priest Kaiko and while the most key parts to the Incubus's armor were stripped and given to the other members that participated in the slaughter, the sword remained with the Demon.

While in an act of kindness the majority of the unused equipment was given back, the part that mattered most was missing. His weapon. The weapon that fueled his powers through the collected souls of fallen enemies, the testament to Ahrimans power, slipped out of his grasp and into the hands of his enemy.

The blood moon was high in the sky the night he opened the crest. Silthe had joined him, per his request, in the War Room while the others slept.

"What are we doing here?"

"I must re-obtain the sword."

Silthe was now beside him, a comforting hand resting along the creatures shoulder. "We will get it back, one day. Full circle remember?" Armanon nodded quietly as the ruby colored eyes flickered in anger but stared at a black wood chest. It was long, about seven feet in length and bound in runes that were scorched into the un-earthly black wood. It glowed softly as Armanon approached and his talons ran along the Crest which bound the spells.

"What are you doing Arm?" A brow perked quietly as Silthe stared on. "Getting help." He replied quietly. The taloned drew across the imprinted crest, a large tower that held its omnious presence. It was the crest of the Tower of High Sorcery. All around the tome Darkforce radiated off of the runes which reacted to the touch of the Incubus Knight.

"What is that?" Silthe blinked and shuddered slightly at the icy wave that gripped the room. "Darkness..." Came from the Assassins lips as the welcomed invasion of the sudden evil washed over him and was gone.

"This? Its a piece of my family history. One I thought to be best left forgotten. But now, it appears, in the darkest of wars that it just may be the only thing left that can still protect our kings." For a moment, a brief moment, the ruby eyes of the tactician shimmered and turned black. Traces of violet swirled in the pools of blackness before his head shook away the lingering powers and refocused into their normal ruby hue.

"Its dangerous to play with ancient magiks Armanon, let us call Tirus or Balfour. Heck Cornell knows alot about ancient magiks let us consult him first, please." He could feel it in his brothers being, some masked presence that hung about him like an invisible aura.

Armanon didnt listen to Silthes protest. In a swift jerk the talons of the incubus ripped clear through the crest shattering the runes of magik that held the case together. The wood convulsed as flames ignited off of the shattering runes and a moment after, exploded into shards of wood and spellfire.

There, floating only inches off the ground, surrounded by bones marked with arcane symbols, was the sword. Its blade a deep crimson red, the blade carved like a demons maw, jagged and brutal. The hilt was made of bone, inscribings that were carved into it glew with an un-holy power. A soft wave was sent off from the weapon as it was released from its cage, it resonated across the lands to the far ends of Armageddon and past the deepest parts of the Underdark. Silthes eyes grew big as recognition plastered itself over his face. "No.." was uttered softly in protest.

Beside the sword was a dagger, a lone dagger whos crystal blade held a mysterious and undefinable liquid inside. Its hilt was also made of bone, with the same inscribings as its larger counter-part. Armanon reached down and plucked the dagger from its floating position and offered it to Silthe. "This is the Ambrosia Dagger, use it to steal the soul of the creature who holds the Absolute Night. "

As Silthe wrapped his boney whisps of fingers along the hilt the power flooded through the blade and into its wearer. The dagger joined with its kin and instantly the soul and weapon were connected. "But that... thats Po-" he was cut off by a simple yet stern shake from Armanon. "Dont speak his name.." But the Incubus thought it, he thought it over and over again as for a moment he weighed the measure of his actions against the outcomes it could produce. Yet nothing in the worlds had ever been worth getting if it didnt involve risk, danger, the possiblity of something going wrong. It was what he lived for, the thrill of battle and the adventure of not knowing what was next.

The sword was lifted, runes flared to life as a blood kin to its original owner awoken the blade from its slumber. The broadsword flared to life and beckoned Armanons being to give into its will. The Darkforce, it radiated off the blade like a living concious, its will strong enough to bend nearly any who touched it. It had been concealed after its owner was demolished by the powers above, yet now it had been unleashed again. A word whispered through his mind, a simple word that echoed coldly along his sub-concious 'D'Sar..'

As the blood moon shone its amber light down along the Courtyard of the Castle of Ahriman, high above in the Tacticians War Room, The D'Sari Warlords Broadsword was unlocked from its cages and the Ambrosia Dagger freed of its confines. Two old weapons brought back in a new time, a new age. Now with a single purpose, till the Sword was reclaimed by Silthe, the Broadsword would protect the Kings. Two warriors, two paths, two goals. One destiny.

Posted by Armanon at July 1, 2005 07:31 PM