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Ironcluster, this legendary sword was once owned by a mighty general forged from melting down the armors of those he defeated in a grotesque display of his strength and his cold blooded, merciless killing of the weak.



This generals name was Bacchus a man of enormous size and demanded nothing but respect from others and it was given lest there armor be added to the swords metal.



After each battle though the sword grew heavier with each captains and generals armor added onto it until one day not even its owner could wield the weapon which threatened to crush anyone who tried so it was put away.



After many more battles came and went until one day a soldier looked in the generals tent to find that he had been sliced in half with the sword. His face was pale showing that he had been dead for many hours a look of shock and horror plastered on his face it being the last things he ever felt before being cleaved in half. The sword laid by him with a sheet of meet on it the blood from the body and sword soaking the ground on which they lay.



Who or what could have lifted the sword and leave such a display in its wake?



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at deaths gate stands a soldier, clad in his blood stained armor he walks forward sword barely hanging from his hand as he moves away from his body and finds the grim reaper waiting for him.



as he gets closer he begins to take in what has happened and tries to turn away but his feet wont obey and move closer to his fate no matter how desperately he tries to go back to the life he doesn't want to lose.



finally he is standing face to face with the reaper its pitiless, boney, hooded figure standing in front of a portal ready to send him to the other side and as it slowly moves aside the soldiers grip on his sword tightens.



with a mighty blow the nameless soldier strikes down the reaper its bones strewn across the ground as the man rejoices and turns to run back to his body but after just a few steps his side is sliced open and he falls to the ground and as he turns to look at his attacker he finally understands.



he has stuck down the reaper but his attacker was the scythe itself. the monstrous being that was death wasn't the guardian on the portals but instead the scythe is and he is soon dragged off and dumped through the portal sent to hell for attacking the wielder of the guardian but it will find i new one...it always does



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Slaughterum, this is the sword of a painter. This sad and lonely painter went about each night killing people without mercy each night



After each night he would use the blood collected from the bodies to make works of art that were both beautiful and otherworldly but he could never get a single one sold.



You see this painter had a dream, a dream to calm the people of this world with his paintings and with this solemn dream to carry him on he continued to paint.



After each day the people on the street in which he tried to sell his art looked at him colder and colder treating him as if he was an oddity and that touching him would spread the disease to themselves, little by little the delicate heart of the painter collapsed....



"Red...the color red!! RED!!!!" this is what the poor man screamed as he ran down the streets slaughtering countless people into the night until finally, in his madness, he turned the blade onto his own smiling face.

COMMENTS

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Wulfscub
23:15 May 29 2010

Interesting, I'm not quite sure what to make of this story though

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CheshireTwins
19:29 Jun 28 2010

Me either. It's a bit strange. A good read though. ^_^

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