Pretend that I care

"I can't break it." Valrym was looking at me with the kind of why are you bringing me look he frequently does when I ask for his help.

"Can't or Won't?" Oshujon was not with me, he cited some kind of not wanting to interfere with another god's avatar situation, put simply he wanted to do something else entirely, which should have been what I WAS DOING!

"Can't, its not a weapon made of this world."

"That doesn't even mean anything." It doesn't, people say shit like that all the time.  I swear its the catch all for 'I have no idea'.

"It means you can take your evil blade and leave my bar." He handed me back the sword. And I looked at him with disdain DISDAIN! The highest form of dain! What's the point of knowing a blacksmith godling when he will not destroy your evil cursed blade! I mean his entire existence is there for me and me alone and now he fails me in my time of need! And naturally when I left the tavern Therod was waiting for me to arrest me for having a dangerous magical artifact in her stupid town.

I wanted to blame Oshujon but I didn't think he actually set me up, this was some other stupid coincidence/combined with me being the most obvious magical holder of doom.  I tell you I can't wait for all these fine people to die so I can rebuild a new reputation with people who don't know I'm a horrible person. Which of course makes me a horrible person.

Results May Change

"So he started a bloody purge of anyone he deemed unworthy, eventually leading to Marked One's uniting and destroying his cult and removing him from power." I couldn't make that sound more interesting, I'd apologize but I'm an asshole.

"And the sword?"

"I threw it into the sea hoping it would never be found again."

"So like a few feet from shore? Can't imagine how that plan failed." Seriously might as well have put a note on it in the wilderness.

"I threw it several miles Trezlan, I'm not a simple man." So he claims! I'm still going with basically a little bit off shore.

"And the creature got it?"

"He's a water creature of some kind, probably drawn by evil like himself, when he figured out it was worse than he is he gave it to you to do worse things."

"Not all tentacle creatures are bad!" No they all are, all of them.

"Right of course, its why he gave you a cursed sword and no other assistance, a sword you didn't even end up using successfully."

"Why do you always have to be right?"

"Because you insist on being wrong." History will look back on my actions and recall that they were all correct, because I intend on writing that bit of history!

"So we'll just throw this thing in the ocean again, problem solved." I grabbed the sword and for the first time could feel something was really off with it.  I guess I didn't notice before, kind of like when you have a nasty smell in your house but get used to it, until you are gone for a bit and the smell becomes really apparent, like that only with an evil cursed sword.

"No we have to destroy it."

"Great just great, you get to throw it away, I have to destroy it." It really was that stupidly simple. Everyone else gets to ignore problems I have to solve them, because someone has to the adult in my life and sadly that person is me. I swear everyone else saves the world, I pick up all the trash that leaves behind! I'm the world garbageman!

The Church of Screw You I got Mine

I didn't really get into the different religion of the lands of the west too much, because frankly it confuses the crap out of me.  They have a similar god for every emotion/state in this world (plus several others) which makes how they overlap with my gods kind of funny (Oshujon informed me their god of war is very much the same one as the fire god over here, she's just part of a bigger pantheon with them, which seems odd believeable but odd, I wonder if it ever lead to one god getting fed up of being ignored in the pantheon and just leaving... wait maybe that explains the Fire God's influence in my lands, wow I never thought of it like that, damn it I'm stupid). Where it really goes off the rails is in their religions.

They have at least 5 that Oshujon knew of, and at least three major ones, including one that believes in one singular god (which is odd again considering they actually have a pantheon that has directly interefered in their own lives! HOW CAN YOU BELIEVE IN JUST ONE?) The most respected of these religions was Church of the Five Elements (Earth, Water, Wind, Fire, Bullshit err Magic) how they were the most respected is beyond me? Their name was ridiculous, but I guess when you've got longevity you can just fill in the blanks (which is what prompted me to create my own Religion I've included the name in the title, did you know I titled these entries? Because I totally do, no I have no idea why). As is most often the case the Church of The Five Elements had the nicest buildings in some of the nicest parts of town (because they have money by bilking poor people, what you don't think that a nice neighborhood just finds itself around religious buildings? No they buy their way in). Oshujon sought the Church of the Five Elements because he'd heard they had a way of cleansing bad objects (it usually involved them taking possession of them and you never seeing them again, boom cleansed into the hands of the church to sell to someone else!) Oshujon at least rated speaking to the head of the branch he had approached, it was in a city he doesn't remember (see this is why I write this shit down, the longer you live the more chance you can to forget!), but he did remember the guy had a long nose, so that was something.

"You did the right thing Marked One." Long nose was practically salivating looking at the sword, which made Oshujon feel he was doing the exact opposite of the right thing.

"So you'll destroy the sword?" It was at this question Oshujon realized not only was he in the middle of a large building there were several armed men in there with him.

"Oh no this blade is far too holy to destroy Marked One, no we'll offer this to our gods and they will tell us the proper thing to do." I know it seems obvious to me, but Oshujon was the instrument of the gods, why they didn't understand he was basically their gods in human form saying "Do this now"

"I made a mistake." Oshujon went to grab the sword and the guards unsheathed their own weapons.

"Yes, yes you did Marked One, you are trying to take a donation to the church of the five elements, and I can not allow that, be gone from this place before I turn you out as the false prophet you clearly are." I have mentioned the issue with Zealots right? Oshujon was remarkably restrained, I had personally seen him kill several people without issue, but here he merely left the sword and walked away.  I guess it comes down to you can't kill people for having the wrong belief structure (well he couldn't, I sure as all gods in this earth do, its my creed and the creed of my new church).

So he left the evil sword in the hands of zealots. This of course had results you can expect, well results I would expect, and I hope you would expect from having read all the horrible things that have happened to my life! DONATE TO MY CHURCH!

Sword of Nightmares

I'm no stranger to nightmares.  They are my constant companion, I don't mention them because frankly I've grown used to waking up in the middle of the night terrified of some half remembered terror that I probably experienced (as I've written down my life is a road map of pain). Oshujon by comparison does not normally get them or any dream. So when he laid down in a modest camp with the sword the night after murdering a man and burning his how down (yes I'm bringing that up, yes its petty, no he didn't put it that way when he told me the story) he was awakened by horrible nightmares.

He couldn't say for sure what they were about, even when he told me he appeared haunted by the memory. He did know that it was terrifying and he woke up in a cold sweat. And when he did awake he was clutching the blade to himself. He didn't know how that had happened, when he went to sleep the sword had been leaning against a tree trunk he'd made his camp next to. The sword felt wrong too, he hadn't picked up on it before, but now there was something blaring in his head to its evil. There was also the sudden desire for more weaponry. Just an overwhelming lust for as much weapons as he could acrue to protect himself from an evil he couldn't name.

He threw the sword away from himself, he wanted to take it to a cliff and throw it off, but he knew that wouldn't do anyone any good. No he had to find someone to destroy it, and for that he sought a priest. Because I guess he doesn't understand that the only thing priests are good at destroying is your faith in humanity (I have no issue with belief in all the gods because they are most certainly real and Oshujon kind of sort of is one? I guess? But the earthly instruments of our divine beings are some of the most easily corrupted group I've ever dealt with and I frequently deal with politicians). Of course since the sword was still around clearly the priest thing was a bad idea, some could say the worst idea. But thats for tomororw's entry naturally. Oh and in case you were wondering, I too got nightmares from the sword, but since thats my normal I didn't even notice the difference, I kid you not.  First time in a long time my own scarred mental psyche prevented me from suffering noticeable ill effects. 

A Booming Reception

"Marked One open the door." In case you were wondering how Oshujon asked people to let him into their houses.

"One moment." Never is it a good idea when you've identified yourself as authority to let the person you identified yourself too more time to prepare.  I mean sure they might not have on pants and they need to find their pants (and its always pants) or they might be planning a haphazard attempt at your life that just takes a moment (like most people do with me, its why I don't knock I just kick in doors, lets just say I replace a lot of doors). Oshujon heard the distinct sound of a hissing fuse and wisely stepped back from the door before a cannon shot erupted through it.

To say he was upset was a mild understatement (you try having a cannon fired at you and maintain your cool, its impossible). The man behind the cannon was not too happy to see a pissed off Oshujon marching into his narrow hallway green angry sword drawn and ready (then again who would be happy seeing that? Masochists?).  It wasn't much of a fight as Oshujon tells it, he basically ran forward beheaded a guy and that was that (the other smugglers were apparently out of town?).  They did have weapons though, lots of weapons stock piled in all rooms of the farm house.  Most appeared to be junk, but Oshujon did find one sword that stood out (obviously this whole story is about the sword!) So he took the sword without much of a thought burned the house down with the rest of the weaponry in it (including more cannon balls and gun powder, which I can only assume exploded very awkwardly possibly killing on lookers, but he didn't tell me if any died, which lets me fill in that yes two farmers were murdered when a canonball crashed into their pack horse and beheaded the beast before maiming both of them... ARTISTIC LICENSE!)

Oshujon tells me he should have known then something was wrong. Its not required to burn down the house, nor take the sword. In fact he's not supposed to have posessions so him taking one was kind of against his code entirely and should have warned him something was amiss. But he didn't and so the sword transfered from a couple idiots who were stockpiling weapons to a person who was a living weapon.  You know nothing serious or anything to be worried about.

The Trials of The Marked One

"Weapon smugglers?" Oshujon (that's how I'll refer to him because frankly writing the marked one over and over again got tiresome the first time...) was at a small farm port on a river in the lands of the west. It was fifty years ago give or take a year (he didn't remember I didn't care), he had been summoned by one of the local farmers to discuss an issue the farmer felt was dire indeed.

"Yes Marked one."

"How can one smuggle something thats not against the law to transport?" Weapons in the land of the west were not against the law to own, or sell. Which was kind of surprising since the law in the lands of the west was so harsh on literally everything else, but I guess because of that they had no issue with everyone having a weapon? I have no idea, as you can guess I barely know the laws in the countries I've lived in (as my criminal history obviously represents).

"These were dangerous weapons." Oshujon sighed, I mean all weapons are dangerous thats hence their damn name.

"And you know these men were smuggling weapons because?"

"Because I saw them moving them around."

"Which means they were doing it openly?"

"No, well yes, but I'm telling you they are smuggling them!" Oshujon informed me that this conversation took over an hour to complete and the basic gist was that this farmer had seen other farmers moving weapons disguised in food crates, despite clearly this guy seeing them doing it so they weren't very good weapon smugglers if they were smugglers at all. These kind of things came up all the time for Marked Ones apparently, one person suspected his neighbors of wrong doing or just didn't like them and would tell some grandiose tale about what was going on and the Marked One (any of them really) would have to investigate on the off chance something was actually going on.

To me that sounds like it would be the actual interesting thing about being a Marked One but Oshujon assured me it was the worst part of the job.  I mean admitting you were doing something wrong would get you killed, so of course no one ever admitting to doing something bad. And Marked One's weren't exactly hired based on their investigative experience so most of the time it was either walk away or kill everyone involved (including at times hilariously the person who reported it, did I mention law in the West sounded really awful? Because it totally does).

Oshujon prefered the walk away method since most of the time nothing bad was ever going on, but he admitted this time something was intriguing about it.  Just the concept of doing something not against the law but hiding you are doing it, it was just too stupid not to look into (that's Lorentino logic I informed him and he harrumphed).  So it came to pass Oshujon looked into the Crosspire farm and discovered well obviously a sword, but more than that of course, next entry etc etc.

Swordsposition

"That sword is cursed." Of course it was cursed I owned it, naturally it'd be gods damned cursed. It meant I couldn't sell it, couldn't be rid of it in a normal way, had to hold on to it, because thats my stupid life. I get tossed a sword from some creepy tentacle monster and the one blade he had was cursed.  I mean why else would the monster have it?

"You say cursed like its a bad thing, I mean who doesn't want a cursed object?"

"Literally anyone with a lick of sense." He was right, but Rosettia like everywhere else in the Guard territory lacked people with sense.

"So why is it cursed western lawman? I'd like a real reason and not just your word." Which is not to doubt his word, but if I'm going to potentially have to deal with a sword curse related issue, I want to be damn sure he's correct.

"It's a long story."

"I've got all day, and if you aren't wrong I might even do what you suggest to do with this sword."

"Might? Well Mr. Lorentino pull up a chair and let me tell you all about that cursed trinket you seem intent on foisting on someone else." And so I pulled up a chair while the most boring story teller ever told me a story. I'll put it along to you, but minus all the dry boring (because honestly if anyone should bore you, it should be me! Wait that came off wrong).