Author Topic: He will have the Shard of War  (Read 2642 times)

Offline sam_i

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He will have the Shard of War
« on: 13:26, Friday 09 Mar, 2012. »
Part One, the recovery of the Shard and an initial assessment.

This time, I knew what the humming meant when it started.  Not a noise so much as a magical resonance just outside the edge hearing that signals the awakening of a powerful artefact.  The fires in the sky were merely conformation that, inevitably, yet more golems had awakened to pursue it again.

The monastery was a scene of utter devastation – Vergers fought Forgists who fought Risen – occasionally lit up by a mad, pyromantic flash from tower.  I could hear the Forgists acolytes in my head well before I could see them, crying an exaltation to their version of Usion as they allowed themselves to be immolated by the artefact they held.  The golem’s voice, when it came, just confirmed this was the artefact I’d feared since I first heard it’s name: “He will have the Shard of War”.

We landed on the tower.  The Shard of War itself is almost a spearhead, a pointed reddish crystal that erupts terrible pyromantic blasts from it’s tip at the will of it’s wielder.  Sady, these poor, untrained acolytes with just a spark of magic in them were being consumed by the power of the artefact itself, each sacrificing himself in term at the deranged ramblings of their leader. 

When the last one fell I grabbed the artefact, taking a chance that I, with better training, could survive it.  I realised instantly that the shard was more than a simple pyromantic charged crystal, it was a multi-facetted and complex thing that could grant its wielder many abilities.  I watched, almost secondary to its will, as it analysed friends and enemies alike, seeing the weakness in their forms and their strategies.  Later, when we failed to aim it, I realised it could do that itself too, I only needed to think of the target I wished to hit, its weaknesses clearly shown up for me, and the Shard would do the rest.  I was merely a battery source, power to fuel the fire.  And even that could be controlled so as not to consume me at once.  It was terrifying and intoxicating in equal measure, and truth be told I was glad when it was taken off of me the next time I lost consciousness.

It, and the skill of my companions, dispatched the golems, but not until they had launched a cry to their unknown master in the North.