>>5669457Eventually, Oluwadamilare arrives, trailing behind the living spark you sent to fetch him. Beneath his arm is a bundle of cloth, and hidden within that the sanctified bane-weapon of the Paladin Prince. He opens his mouth to speak, and prepares to produce the blade, but then catches sight of Princess Ekaterine and thinks better of it. You nod, grateful for that. What if she recognized the looted weapon of her slain sibling? Instead, you take on the burning burden of the blade—burdensome for how it cuts at your spirit even separated from its owner and clad in fabric. As the Archer takes up station beside you and Hwaksong’s Princess, and bleeds his own palm upon the altar, you lay the swaddled sword alongside the bloodied diadem, and squeeze yet more of your blood out upon it.
“This is an implement blessed by your hated enemies, the Gods of Light,” you say. “I can feel that it carries quiet a bit of their power within… A worthy enchantment, perhaps?”
Your blood’s sizzle upon the sword’s protective covering, and the breathing of the three of you, is all you hear for a time.
“A <Holy Avenger>…”
The Dark God sounds covetous as he speaks the words like a title of some import.
“And not just ANY <Holy Avenger>, but the side-sword of the First Paladin King himself… Blessed directly by Moroth’s own manifestation… Yes, yes, this will do.”
As the God of Wisdom accepts the offering, the sword vanished before your eyes, the bloodied fabric which hid it and protected you now falling limp and loose in its absence.
“I will do as you have requested, mortal, and without further debt to you.”
The <Diadem of Clarity> vanishes next. You reflect that the Master did not say your PREVIOUS debts were voided, but merely that you owed nothing extra for the healing of your brother. You suppose that will have to do for now.
“Bring the Green Dragonborn to the altar,” the Dark God now commands, “and I will work my miracle.”
