Savien smiles again as he lowers his glass. He would have enjoyed hearing a story from Gerik, but never minds telling one of his own. He closes his eyes and remembers it as if it were yesterday.
His eyes open and he watches D'win write as he begins to speak.
"You may use my name in the book if you wish, else how will one know if the tale is true. The story can be told in the Book of Mortals, since it is about me, but there is a spririt in the axe, and she may be an angel who has fallen, but not gone."
"It was five years ago, and I was newly come to the great "City of Splendors. One of the few friends I had made was an elven priest of Milil- the god of song, Arkiem by name. One night, as I often did, I went to an inn where he sang. He would often sing ancient elven ballads, stories in their own right."
"This night, however, was different. He began to sing in his usual beautiful tenor, but seemed almost to be in a trance. His eyes gazed far away as he sang about fallen heroes, heroes that fell defending the city from great evils. He sang of the creation of a weapon. A weapon to be wielded by heroes. Forged of magic and steel, and imbued with powers to overcome the undead and evil planar beings, it was called Azure Edge, Slayer of the Netherborn."
He pauses, and gazes at the weapon still cradled, almost lovingly in his arm. The blue metal almost seems to pulse with energy, as if taking pride in its own history. She sends an empathic pulse through his mind, and he knows that she is pleased.
He looks back towards D'win and the others and continues. "One of the great heroines of the city, Lady Lauoroun, volenteered to have her spirit bound to the weapon, so it would have a conciousness. This sentience would protect it so it would not fall into unworthy hands. In essence the blade now can choose her own wielder.
The song continues, and now speaks of those who have wielded her before. Each one gave his or her life in service to the city.
Each one ended a dire threat."
"Upon the death of each wielder, the blade would vanish, only to reappear when some peril threatened the great city once more.
As this verse left the bard's lips, the great weapon appeared, hovering in midair above the crowd. There it hung until the last note of the song faded, pulsing with crackling blue energy."
"As the last note of Arkiem's song faded, the axe hurled forward, to bury her blade in the far wall. The singer then continued, a verse that warned, only one worhty of the blade would touch her.
Any others would be rejected, perhaps painfully."
"At this point he came out of the trance, and seemed as amazed as everyone else in the room to see the axe, glow now fading impaled in the wall beside him. He came to me and said, "Do not touch the axe. I must consult the city fathers on this." That said he departed."
Savien pauses in the tale, and looks at D'win. "You should know, at this point in the story, and in my life, I had no illusions of being a hero. I did not want the burden of protecting an entire city. I sat calmly in my seat and watched a huge northerner rise and loudly proclaim his worhtiness. I watched less calmly as he strode forward, grasped the axe, and was hurled across the room in a blinding blue flash."
"A notable paladin examined the man and announced that he was dead. Well I certainly was not going to touch this weapon now. It had struck down a powerful barbarian, half again my size just for grasping it.
"The paladin strode forward and grsped the handle of the great weapon, and everyone expected him to pull it free. A look of confusion crossed his face, and he released the handle. He walked past me muttering, " It said, not my destiny, not my fate. It talked .... spoke in my mind." I sat and watched a few others try their luck. Most were unharmed, and simply could not pull the blade free."
"Then it happened. For no reason I can explain, I suddenly felt the desire to be worthy. Almost as if I were not there I felt my body rise to its feet. I walked slowly to where the weapon hung and reached for its handle with trembling fingers. My hand closed on the handle, and I gave a tug. Nothing happened. Nothing, no blinding flash, no voice in my head, simply nothing.'
"As I stood there, hand graping this weapon, I began to want it. I wanted it badly, no NEEDED it. As I startd to pull harder, I realized that this was not my emotion, but that of the axe. She had chosen ME, and wanted terribly for me to pull her from the wall. One final tug and the weapon came free, so easily that I nearly fell over."
"I stumbled backward until I regained my balance, and stood there gaping in awe at this weapon. I could immediately tell that the blade was pleased with her chioce, though I could not fathom it. After all I did not even know how to properly wield an axe in battle."
Pausing again for a drink, Savien looks at his listeners. The looks he sees on their faces show they perhaps wonder as he did, why this weapon would choose someone who did not even know how to use her.
"There are other details that I do not remember so well, after grasping the axe. I can tell you that in days following she taught me to wield her. She gave me instruction through dreams. I slept the nights away, dreaming of practice and combat with the weapon. I awoke rested, but retained all the training. Still to this day, I cannot properly wield another axe, but handle this one as if born to it. Apparently she was training me to defend the city against the next great crisis, but that is another story....."
Savien watches as D'win writes the last lines in her book. "I hope that was not too long winded for you," he says as he lifts his cup and drains it. "It is true, as you require, and you see the proof here on my arm. That is why she rides where she does."
He sits back wondering what responses will come from his tale, and waiting to see if someone else will tell one.
