Griffonclaw leaned his weapons against the wall of the cave in the Eastern Plaguelands, and removed his armor, leaving him in gambeson. Rummaging through his pack, he found a small leather kit - files, rasps, coils of steel wire, pliers, oil, a honing stone, and wool cloth.
One my one, he picked up his armor pieces, examining them critically and cleaning them. Where there were dents, he hammered them out. Where there were breaches, he patched them together with the steel wire as a temporary measure.
When he had finished, he turned his eye to his weapons.
The first of these was a proper maul hammer, long since a defacto symbol of the Paladin Orders. This required no cleaining; the fiery enchantment on it kept it spotless, burning off blood, gobbets of flesh, ichor, or anything else. He examined it briefly, and put it aside.
The second of these was a demon-forged hellblade named Doombringer. Its use was considered anathema by the Cathedral of Light, and those it killed had their souls sent straight to the Twisting Nether. It had the essence of a demon trapped within, and there were those who said that it would whisper in the mind of the user, bringing madness and death.
The third was a large glaive, its wicked blade and handle meant for only one reason - butchery. No mercy, no justice, nothing but a tool for the efficient rending of flesh.
When he had sharpened his weapons, he bathed, and put on his meditation robes, given him by Niphesto. He sank into meditation and prayer... his path was open to him.
He had three weapons.
Which weapon was he?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment