At Some Point You’ll Get Pissed At All My Apologies

So, I did not get anything up yesterday. Because I was sick. I had a cold yesterday, which, in and of itself, isn’t terrible. Some people get destroyed by even the slightest illness. I, on the other hand, sometimes don’t even recognize the fact that I am sick until it’s already in its final stages. So, in short, sickness itself doesn’t really get to me. What really takes the wind out of my sails is the medicine. Because, like most people, I’d rather not be sick longer than I have to be. All that to say, when I wasn’t busy doing things, I can’t remember what I was doing, because I was loopy in the head from cold medicine. I was in no state to write anything. So, you have my sincerest apologies.

A Blacksmith’s Adventures with Weapons of Legend: Wicked Desire and the Twin Suns

It was with apprehension that the swordsman approached the criminal. He dreaded the coming encounter, knowing full well how it must end.

“So,” the fiend began, his back still turned to the swordsman. “You’ve finally arrived. It’s about time. You know how many people I’ve had to kill to get your attention?”

The warrior stood in silence.

“No? I’ll tell you, then. 23. That’s right. 12 men, 9 women, and 2 children. I tried to be civil. I tried to kill as few people as possible, but you just wouldn’t come. So, after I had killed a few soldiers, I decided maybe some civilians would motivate you. Only the men, mind you. I know you’re big on chivalry. But you wouldn’t come. So I had to push the envelope. The women were next. And, boy, were they fun! And yet you still refused my invitation. So, naturally, there was only one option left. The kiddos were rough, though. They’re wiggly when they’re still that young. Hard to hold onto. You can’t kill ’em when they won’t stand still. I had to settle for only killing two. But it seems that was sufficient.”

The warrior held his tongue, but the rage flowed from him in waves. He could not afford to blindly lash out, though. He knew exactly what he was dealing with, and the weapon was more dangerous than the man wielding it.

“It’s told me about you, you know. You have fascinated and baffled it. You’re one of the few. You got away. But even more than that, you resisted. No one resists the Wicked Desire. And yet you did. Tell me. Why? This blade hates me because it can’t twist me. I have always been twisted, so it doesn’t get the pleasure of doing it itself. But you! It loves people like you! The moral! The idealistic! The compassionate! It loves to break you. To cut you open, dissect the darkness of your mind, and to bring to the surface the dark desires hidden in your heart. Even now, you feel its lustful tendrils probing your mind, trying to free your perversions. How long did you carry it before the Paragon of Compassia took it from you? How long before you felt an irresistible urge to rape, murder and destroy? But you never broke, did you? You holed yourself away in a dead city, kept yourself away from the living, especially your loved ones. You didn’t want to hurt any of them. But I love this weapon! It’s given me new, even more twisted ideas! Truly delicious, really. And we’ve been thinking, what would be better than putting down the man who resisted? So here you are, Thomas Riversedge. Shall we begin?”

The monster turned and locked eyes with Tom. It was true; for several months, Tom’s mind and soul were held hostage by the wretched blade known as the Wicked Desire. Tom knew more than most about legendary weaponry, but this greatsword in particular stood out. Because he personally dealt with its terrible effects. It was not a normal magical weapon. It was a shard of Desiren’s soul given earthly form. A beautiful black single-edged blade, in the shape of a woman’s profile, with an intoxicating magical aura. It was hard to resist the blade once one set their eyes upon it. Once it was taken up, however, it began to play tricks on the mind. It took your greatest fears and darkest secrets, and it twisted them into perverse desires and unholy temptations. The purer and kinder you were, the more it desired to see your downfall. For months, Tom fought its demonic control. He had encountered the previous owner in the wilderness, and the man begged Tom to kill him. Tom refused, causing the man to attack him in a desparate bid to force his hand. Tom, unfortunately, did have to eliminate him. During his own struggle, his only contact with the outside world was Tara, the paragon of Compassia, who checked up on his friends and family for him. Eventually, with the aide of several of Tom’s allies, she wrested possession of the evil weapon from Tom. Something about Compassia’s blessing, or maybe as a part Tara’s intrinsically incorruptible nature, prevented Tara from being affected by the unholy weapon. Now, Tom had to face it down once more.

“Maybe, if you had lied, and told me the weapon forced you to do it, you might have been able to live a normal life after this, but it seems even the blade will not vouch for you,” Tom said gloomily.

“Come on! Let’s fight already!”

With that, the wicked man charged at Tom. Tom gave him an appropriately retaliatory volley of strikes.

“Man,” Tom said, “you’re really dishing out some serious damage here. Luckily, I came prepared.”

“What are you gonna do? Charm me into submission? Ha!”

“You’re not going to like this, old Desi!” Tom growled as he pulled out two golden swords.

The Wicked Desire seemed to scream in anger and fear as it felt the clash of the two shimmering blades against its own black-stained metal.

“What!? What is that!?” Tom’s foe shouted. “My sword wishes to withdraw! What did you do!?”

“The Twin Suns!” Tom declared in victory. “The guardian slaying swords! And let me tell you, it hurts to get hit by these babies when you’re comprised solely of a shard of a guardian’s soul!”

Tom knew that the legends of the swords slaying guardians were a bit exaggerated, but it was true that the blades, forged using the magic of wild guardians, did have a notable impact on guardians, abominations, and magical weapons. Hence why he brought them with him for this battle. After an extended battle, Tom finally brought his foe to his knees.

“It’s no use,” the criminal panted. “We all know you can’t kill people!”

“Can’t?” Tom said. “Or won’t? You see, I don’t kill people, if I can’t justify it. Plus, I like to give people second chances. But you are special. I can completely justify killing you. As you so kindly relayed to me, 12 men, 9 women, and 2 children.”

“You wouldn’t!” the man shouted.

Tom put the twin blades against the criminal’s neck. In a flash, the man’s head came rolling off.

“In this case, I would.”