The Peasant's sword
Prologue
You play a sentient magic sword. You are centuries old and have seen and done terrible things, often in the pursuit of some misguided quest for glory and power. Everyone who has ever wielded you has died, and you have spent more time alone in the dark places of the world than you have spent in the hands of someone who would put you to work…
One day since this new bearer plucked me from the dark. How long has it been since I was last left there? I don’t remember. But it feels good to be held again, to feel the warmth of mortal flesh around my hilt. Soon I will be put to work again, made to rip and tear as I was built to do. Part of me thirsts for it, longs to feel the bite of meat again, but the rest of me feels nothing but disgust and fatigue. I have served for so long, been discarded so many times. Surely it’s time I was allowed to rest for good?
Game: https://loottheroom.itch.io/go-alone
The Story
Day 1 – A fight and revelations
Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death: Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath! – Richard III
My new bearer is called Manfred and when he talks to his companions he is sweet and innocent, but I sense something deep inside him. I think he yearns for blood just like I use to.
Our first fight together was just some stupid peasants that tried to rob Manfred and his companions. I can still taste their fear as I led Manfred in our new dance: To feel the flesh tear as I swept through a body and the taste of their blood. How many times have I danced like this? The years in the dark have not dulled my senses and powers. One of the peasants, maybe a blacksmith, came at us with a large hammer that may have have damaged me, but I was able to alter Manfred’s swing just enough to hit the handle instead of the hammer’s steel head. They may think that they control me, but it is I who controls the dance.
Afterwards, Manfred cleaned the blood off me and, much to my surprise, applied some oils to my blade. Someone has taught the boy some good habits.
Day 2 – More fools
As Manfred and his companions rested and had dinner more peasants attacked us. I suspect that they were out looking for their missing friends and found the bodies. They had tracked us to our camp and decided, foolishly, to extact some revenge. They were better organised than the rabble we first encountered.
They came at us using the “bulls horn” formation: the main body in the centre and smaller detachments to the left and right. These “horns” will swing around to envelope us. I have seen this strategy in play many times and managed to alert Manfred to the situation.
Two of the peasants in the centre group fought well, much better that I expected from a bunch of peasants. Perhaps they were old soldiers? They targeted Manfred immediately, clearly identifying him as the main danger to the group.
I think that they must have fought together in the past as their attacks were well coordinated, with minimum communications. They had done this many times before and old habits had reasserted themselves. As I watched the two fight in such a coordinated way I started reminiscing about the twins and how they fought using my sister and myself in a similar fashion. Centuries later, Grondell had also welded us during his battles with the Undead King. Left and right hands working in unison to carve out the dead heart of the King’s empire. In the final battle, she had been driven into the King’s chest just before he fell off the battlements; both of them disappearing forever.
While my mind wandered in the past, the soldiers managed to hit Manfred several times. I has pulled out of my reminiscing by his blood flowing into my hilt. The soldiers were good but their training made them predictable and their age slowed them. With my mind finally focusing on the fight, Manfred and I dispatched them quickly. They should have died of old age, but their luck ran out today.
Day 3 – History and defeat
The party moved to a new camp to rest and treat their wounds. The saying goes “idle hands makes the devils work” – I could see one of the group watching me as everyone else rested. His name is Falco. He has that greedy look behind his eyes that I’ve seen many times before. Was he planning to steal me?
I hope not. He was not what I would call hero-material. If he did steal me, then I would have to kill him and hope that someone better finds me. I have done this in the past to the bearers that I found to be unsuitable. Find a weakness and exploit it. Whisper in the dark to feed their fears until madness takes over. Occasionally they use me to end their life - I don’t care so long as I am free of them.
As everyone rests, my thoughts return to yesterday’s memories, especially my sister - is she still alive or has she found peace? We were forged by the Dwarves that live under the Kor-Gari Range to the North. We were given to the twins in order to kill the daemon X (I cannot say his name as some part of him still resides in me and I fear that saying his name may awaken him). I have lost count of the number of battles we fought in, but somehow it is always the one-on-one fights that I cherish, especially with my sister at my side, singing songs of blood.
Damn it! What is happening to me? Again, while I was day dreaming of the past I missed something: I did not see Falco approach. He grabbed me and ran into the woods.
Manfred pursued us and managed to catch up just as we entered a rocky grove. There was a brief struggle and Manfred wrestled me from Falco’s grasp. Falco then grabbed a large stone and swung it at Manfred several times. Manfred managed to dodge the first few but was hit by a glancing blow, knocking him to the ground. As Falco approached us intent on finishing off Manfred, I focused my power, took control of Manfred’s arm and stuck Falco through the stone, shattering it and Falco’s chest. I could feel X stirring and hoped that drawing some of his power did not wake him.
Today just gets better and better. The grove we find ourselves in belongs to a troll. She is not happy with us disturbing her sleep and tries to crush us with a nearby tree. Luckily, Manfred see sense and concludes that we cannot defeat her while he is still injured. We make a hasty retreat, hoping that she stops and enjoys Falco for a midnight snack.
Day 4 – Dark places and more revenge
Manfred decided to rest again today. The fights over the last two days have taken a toll and he just wants to rest and recover.
The group huddle around the camp fire and tell stories. I half listen to their boring adventures. If only I can tell them of my life and what I have accomplished over the centuries. But, perhaps, their little minds may not be able to handle my adventures!
When Manfred starts his story, he has my complete attention. It is always wise to learn everything you can about the person who wields you.
I was down South near the ruins that occupy the river delta that feeds into the Lowgrass Fen. I was alone at the time and spied a group of travellers heading for the same location. I decided to hide and see who they were and maybe see what items I might liberate (he laughs). I watched them set up camp for the evening and moved a bit closer to get a better view of what goods they were carrying.
If you know those ruins, then you know of the catacombs beneath them. Well, I certainly do now! I had just moved around to the rear of the camp, close to their horses when I was jumped by a couple of them. I managed to punch one in the balls (what a hero!) and escape the second. They raised the alarm and the rest of the camp started heading in my direction. I rushed through the decayed alleyways trying to lose them but took the wrong turn and ran into a dead end: a wall had collapsed, blocking most of the alley. If I had time I would have climbed over the wall, but they were on me too quickly. The collapsed wall must have weakened the floor and our combined weight was too much: the floor to gave way and we all fell into the catacombs below.
When I rolled out of the bodies and debris I was jabbed in the side and found that I had fallen on this beautiful sword.
(If I could, I would blush right now.)
I grabbed the sword and in the dark killed the lot of them with my superior bladework. (No stupid, you were dazed from the fall and I did all the hard work.)
They say bad luck comes in threes. And I say it has excellent timing. It appears that I did not kill all of them.
A horse and rider crashed out of the woods straight at Manfred. The rider took a swing at him with a small mace, catching him clean on the side of his head. The rest of the group just stood there dumbfounded as Manfred fell to the ground with half of his scalp hanging loose. The elf Adoel was the first to react (she’s an elf, what do you expect?) and even before the rider had cleared the other side of the camp she has loosed half a dozen arrows, hitting the rider in the back. He fell from the horse and lay still at the edge of the camp.
Everyone finally started moving: Adoel and Eldaron went to Manfred’s aide and the others pounced on the fallen rider. He was too far gone to get much information, but we did gather enough to know that he was part of the caravan that Manfred tried to rob and had been tracking Manfred over the last week.
We now have something in common. I have also been hunted by an enemy.
Day 5 – Recovery and reminiscing again
Manfred didn’t die. The wound looked far worse that it was and the elves sewed his scalp back on and gave him some herbs to deal with the pain and speed his recovery. He’ll have good scar to show off when it fully heals.
Another day of doing nothing. Adoel had the rest of the group search the woods around the camp to see if there was any more unwanted visitors, but it looks clear. She did post guards just in case.
With nothing else to do (or kill) I drifted off into my past again and old enemies. The sword Dragon’s Tooth had manipulated his owners for almost a hundred years, convincing them that my current bearer was their mortal enemy so the two of us would end up fighting. Dragon’s Tooth did not know the source of my power and we bested him time and time again. Like me, Dragon’s Tooth had been forged to kill a monster.
Dragon’s Tooth’s original bearer was a Knight called Sir Davvick. Davvick’s monster was a dragon (were you surprised?). I do not know the full details, but I gathered the fight had been close and as Davvick had struck the fatal blow the dragon had belched flame, frying Davvick and warping Dragon’s Tooth. I suspect that this caused his hatred for me or, perhaps, it was jealousy. I really don’t know. Perhaps I should: we did have a relationship that spanned a hundred years.
Oh, does that mean he was my oldest acquaintance? Definitely not a friend. Sorry, I’m rambling, back to the story.
Ironically, Dragon’s Tooth was destroyed in the place I was forged all of those years ago. The dwarves had long disappeared from Kor-Gari and we fought in the empty halls, the sounds echoing off the distant walls. I badly wounded Dragon’s owner, who turned and tried to flee over the bridge that spans one of lava chasms. The wound was too much and he slipped in the dark, falling into the lava. Just as I was born in the lava they both died.
Day 6 – More history
Manfred continues to recover. That’s it. Nothing else happened today.
I think the elves don’t like me. They keep glancing at me, as if I was the one how was responsible for this. Perhaps I am. Manfred’s discovery of me was certainly the catalyst that produced his current injuries. Perhaps he should have left me in the catacombs.
Maybe I should blame Coppernight? The old dwarf and I smashed our way into Harden (the name of the ruins where Manfred’s found me) only to be crushed by some fat troll and be buried under the rubble for 50 years. But that wasn’t the longest time I’ve been been alone. What was his name? He was another dwarf, Grim something. He deliberately buried me in the corpse field of the Undead King a few days after Grondell died. I would have liked to be buried with Grondell in his tomb so we could be together forever, but what’s-his-face blamed me for Grondell’s death and decided that I should be hidden and never found. I would have liked to see his smug face when the children dug me up a century later! The little scoundrels were daring each other to enter the haunted fields and dig up a souvenir of the battle. The half-orc Sharn got the surprise of her life when I started talking to her. She was a favourite of mine, we were together for 30 or so years. I’ll tell you about her a bit later.
Day 7 – Someone else’s dreams
Manfred continues to recover, but this was a bad day. A fever started early in the morning and continued into in the night. Some of the gang went hunting and returned with same game in the afternoon. A good hearty meal raised people’s spirits and the elves cooked up some rabbit broth for Manfred. They added some of their magic herbs and this seemed to calm him as he eventually fell asleep towards midnight.
At one point the fever caused Manfred to relive some experience from the past and he grabbed my hilt and swung me about attacking some imaginary enemy. There was no danger to anyone as I had good control over the arm. I did get lucky: due to his weakened state I was able to get a good look into his mind. I said it before, knowing everything about your bearer is a priority.
He had a sister just like me. And just like me, he had lost her too.
Amongst all of his companions that have died, his sister was the one that haunts him. It was an arranged marriage between the sister and some rich merchant from another village. Their father was trying to build his own little empire by marrying her into a rich family. The sister had rebelled and Manfred’s father has beaten her. Latter that day she ran away, but had taken a wrong path in the dark and ended up in a swamp where she slipped and fell into the dark waters.
Manfred had waited a year to exact his revenge. One cold winter’s evening he took his father and the merchant out drinking. When they were too drunk to know what was happening Manfred led the pair to the swamp where he killed them in a very messy manor. I think that this is thing that I saw when were first met. That dark secret and the thirst for blood.
Fin
Manfred wakes early in the morning and picks me up. Taran, who is on watch, approaches us but Manfred mumbles about going to the bathroom (not quite the words he used) and wanders off along a path in the forest. Taran seems confused about what to do and follows us for a minute but then turns back to the camp. I hope he has decided to rouse the others as Manfred’s mind is clouded and confused. A few seconds after, he stumbles off the path and heads further into the forest. I don’t know what’s up ahead but as we continue through the undergrowth the sound of water gets louder. Are we approaching a river?
A river and waterfall. The area looks very scenic, but not from the top of the cliffs that border the waterfall. I feel Manfred’s mind finally focus: In his delirium he is still looking for his sister. As he steps off the edge I see the swamp below us.
We fall and sink into the bog below the waterfall. Manfred and I rest.
Epilogue
To die, to sleep - to sleep - perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause