Quoted By:
>SELECTED: The last man to fall, his weapon is in perfect condition. The man must have gone down fighting whatever horror assailed them, the edge has sunk into a solid stone three finger widths deep. Gripped tight between those splintered skeletal fingers, the Blade… it’s still sharp. Impossible. [The Blade]
Despite the shattered frame, the skeletal fingers have to be pried off the handle one by one. It is grisly work, wrapped so tight they must in the end be snapped off to achieve any purchase. You offer a prayer in apology to the fallen warrior, trusting that his soul would know this desecration is for only the noblest of causes. Finally, the last fingerhold is freed. Curling your hands around the hilt, preparing to tear the weapon partially embedded in the stone, you spare another glance for the ancient guardian. Though centuries and nations apart, you feel a certain kinship with him. You know nothing about the man, his ambitions or regrets, his loves or his losses. But you feel that the two of you shared the same goal, to protect the world from evil such as this. You are not merely and basely looting his corpse… you are taking up his mantle.
To lose your own blade just a few weeks ago in Langland, and now for this peerless weapon to be delivered unto you in the most unlikely of circumstances? Providence. Who else but the Angel could have forseen you being swept ashore here? Here of all places? The fears of being marooned for the rest of your natural life have fled you, even the dread of this foul place has retreated. Now the storm that cast you ashore seems sent by the Almighty, the snapping of the lifeline no longer a misfortune but fate. This was destiny made manifest, your part in the Heaven’s divine mission does not end here.
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