Chapitre 1: Prologue
You ever think to yourself, I sure do wish I had no legs, hands, feet, or any way to move other than someone else picking you up and lugging you around like luggage? If your answer was no I can only wonder why the hell not?
I can tell you from experience being in the grip of a sweaty palm constantly slashing, piercing, and most of all thrusting into meat bags only to feel their wet sticky substance all over your body is quite refreshing. Forget water or rain, the true luxury of life is the revolting texture of blood
Being someone's tool is by far the best possible way to live. It's boring, pointless, and far too demeaning to ever think about silly thoughts like dreams,ambitions, or moving. I am lucky enough to sit in a single spot for long periods of time unable to change up the scenery, truly that would be just awful to be able to do that.
Some people might say I'm being sarcastic or disingenuous and to those people I can confidently say, no shit. You must be the most gifted fuck in your entire race to have caught on to that you ingenious bastard. Honestly I don't know what gave me away, was it the revolting part? Or maybe it was the thing I said about hands and feet?
Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself, after all it is entirely possible that what I said went right over your head and you are even more stupid than I imagine. So I suppose I should start with telling you why being a simple tool is the worst possible way to live.
It all started with this narcissistic prick called the All-father. For some reason he decided he wanted to have a sword and so he made me. Unlike most creatures that come out of an egg or the weird ones that come out screaming and kicking as soon as they are about to come to life in probably the most painful way possible, I was made in a forge. It was a very homely forge, I can still remember the soothing feel of being very warm in my nice cozy home.
My time there was so amazing in-fact it is one of the few highlights of my life. Unfortunately, like all good things they come to an end. In this case because the living waste of space called the All-father (you know the guy I mentioned a moment ago just in case you forgot) decided to mold me into a sword. He could have made me a god like his children or even some kind of robot or living statue but no he decided to make me a sword, and to that I say, what an asshole.
If you have never heard of a sword before I'm guessing your world is either too peaceful to hurt someone or too dumb to figure out how to make one. OR you're just a small child who also qualifies for being a complete waste of space because not only are you annoying and have sticky hands, but you don't even qualify as a full meat-bag. Children are more aptly categorized as half-meat.
Half-meats are loud, annoying, and last but not least, a very pretentious sort. So if you are one of these undesirable kinds of beasts I am afraid you must stop reading immediately because I don't like you. Still reading? Well I'll assume you aren't a child and because I am a generous and kind individual I will tell you what a sword is.
A sword can be used to cut things similar to a knife even looking much like one, except often they are double edged and approximately the length of an arm or longer.
A good sword is well balanced possessing a pommel at the opposite end from the tip of a blade. Just above the pommel you'll find the part your average meat for brains will grip a sword. This is called a grip for those of you that couldn't infer that.
Traditionally a grip is wrapped in leather like myself. Just above the grip is a crossguard which is one of the more useful parts of myself protecting the hands of whomever is using a sword from a downward cut.
Now anyone wielding me will likely just beat someone before having to use a crossguard. In my case the crossguard is more of an aesthetic with it's sole function to stop some idiot from accidentally touching the steel that is above the grip/meat-sack holding location and cutting themselves.
A sword is an elegant weapon, the best weapon there is really but some might argue that's a spear since it's more 'practical' or 'requires less training for mass use'. If you know anyone with those types of beliefs feel free to assume they are mindless fools or completely insane.
The sword is by far the best weapon there is; we aren't made of mostly wood. We look waaaay cooler and most of all you can do more than stab people you can also slash them with a sword making it the obviously superior weapon. Oh and spears just look kind of dumb. They resemble a giraffe that forgot to grow legs. No seriously reader just look at a spear what's with that overlong long shaft, not to mention it's pitifully small amount of steel at the top what a stupid looking weapon.
However, it's worth noting the most notable thing about a sword is that it can't move by itself (which a spear ALSO can't do), and despite the fact I can glow and become a larger sword similar to a greatsword I can't physically move. Oh wait I forgot, I don't even glow anymore because the All-father decided it was annoying so he put a glamor on me.
For those readers that live under a rock I will explain what glamor is. A glamor makes something look like something else without changing its true characteristics. With this glamor he put on me I unfortunately don't glow a bright white anymore.
Now I'm just a crummy sword with a nice polish able to change shape at any time. It's a terribly dull existence. In fact I spent the first ten years of my life sitting within a scabbard he had specially made for me.
Most mortal wizards, mages, warlocks, witches, ect honestly they have way too many names for magic people. In reality they're all just meat-bags that can use creation magic, so like, magic meat is the best word for it.
Anywho these magic meats invented a kind of magic for extra bag space- ya know bigger on the inside than out. And the All-father did that to me with my scabbard. No matter how big I got, how heavy I made myself, on the outside I looked and weighed the same amount. Man I fucking hate that guy.
So not only did I not see for about ten years but trying to hear what anyone was saying was far too difficult. "But wait, if you don't have ears or eyes how can you see and hear?" I can already hear you asking in your stupid dumb meat voice. To which my response is, really? That's the question you came up with in your infinite wisdom. Not "how did a sword write words?" or "how could a sword possibly be alive." No, it was how I hear words. I would drag this on for a few dozen pages mocking you for your silly meat questions but if I'm being honest I have no clue either.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone