Sword of Drok
We made it to the mountains. ISear is alternating between rage and tears. His home has been utterly destroyed, the forests leveled, the ground and mountains being ripped open in some sort of mining operation. And in this darkness, there is a light shooting into the heavens, a cracking, frantic light.
Barrel is doing some scouting, ThrowDown is pacing, and Pitter is digging a trough for ISear's tears.
Arry motions to me into the shadows.
"Mord, I need to tell you about this sword. Do you remember the story of Drok?"
"Drok, yes, the mighty companion of Kord and the founder of Kord's temple. A brute of a man, I have been told. Until the day he disappeared, no one save Kord could best him in feats of athleticism. I always felt a kinship to him."
"Well, Mord, there is a good reason for that feeling. Your mother forbade me to speak of it to you, but events have demanded otherwise and she agrees now. Drok would have been amazing enough if what you say was all. But he was also a master smith and a clever wizard. Those were the days of legendary people. He forged this sword, his sword, and put in all his knowledge, experience, and wisdom into making it. It hums with goodness, singing happily as it fells those of evil kind, made of a unique blend of silver and cold iron. Hold it, do you hear its song?"
I held it and felt a warmth go up my arm, a closeness to the divine that I have only felt when I am wrapped in the power of Kord. It sang to me of demons in close proximity. As I swung it, a calm rage of joy ripped into me. I gave it back to Arry, reluctantly.
"Thank you Mord. I need to study it a bit more, to make sure it has not been cursed. Fortunately, the magic of the orcs is generally pretty poor. You should have the sword soon Mord. For this sword is your birthright. Many years ago, before the temple at New Ardlord or the colony, I pieced together the legends and writings that led your mother and me to this sword. Well, led me to tell your mother where to go. She did the leg work, you know. I was never much good in a fight. And those were some pretty brutal fights, ancient crypts buried underneath a jungle of ferocious monsters.
"But why could we do this? You see, Mord, my sister and I were the last descendants of Drok. Now you will be once we are gone. This sword had been lost for centuries, waiting for the time to reappear and do great deeds. It was the finding of this sword that prompted the temple elders to approve the sect of Drok to go to New Ardlord. And it was its divine inspiration that led us to further explore into the colony upon these shores. This sword was a symbol of hope and inspiration.
"It was your mother who was a rising star in the temple. She and this sword, leading and battling to prominence. She became arrogant. Yes, Mord, she did. She led us to these shores before we were ready. The first tribe we met was your father's. They were ready to annihilate us. But she did battle with that whole tribe. Just her, in fact. And she beat them all, without killing a single one. That feat earned her respect amongst them all. She told them of the power of Kord, of his mercy, and of his joy of athletic combat. And so it was that they swore upon the sword to serve Kord.
"But the entire plain was filled with orcs and they were not as compliant. We stood our ground for years, but in the end, it was doomed to fail. Our numbers started to dwindle. We had no support from home. And then, the great orc alliance was formed; we had thousands of orcs coming at us. Your father and his best orcs stayed behind to defend us in our retreat. Your mother gave him this sword and and a glass sphere to transport him back to her when the time came. But he never came back. The sword was lost. Your mother could find no trace of him. The temple elders were most displeased, she fell out of favor, and the whispers of your father's presumed betrayal entered her heart. This is why she has lost so much of her vibrancy. But now, now, we have the sword back and your father's fate is known. There was no betrayal, but rather dark magic. I have told my sister of all of this and I can sense the spark coming back. I hope it is not too late. But for now, we must deal with the situation here. I fear that what we have seen confirms that there is an open portal to a demon's plane, presumably that beast BaffledMint. We must close it for good."
He talks and talks, but I not listen. Pretty sword, me thinks.
Mords of Wisdom: Arrogance drives one to rise high and fall low.