Finders Keepers! [Flashback][Sword]

[Valleck]

Day 20 of Fall, AV 453 'Pace yourself boy. You can't keep going like this. You'll need water soon.' Valleck trudged slowly through the blistering sands of Ekytol. His body ached with wearines. His eyes burned with the horrible blend of sand and sweat attacking him. The sun, Syna was cruel. It burned him worse than he could ever remember in his whole childhood of Syliras. As he glanced into the sky, he could see the outline of the moon in that dreadfully clear sky. Leth would be upon him in a few bells, thank the gods. He was tired of this heat, and even though every night he felt eager for the sun's warmth again, he desired it. Foolish, tired, man. Valleck panted as he held his waterskin tightly in his hand. He had been very careful not to drink too deeply from it, yet still it sat half empty. He thirsted for more, so badly, but it was all he had left. He couldn't risk it, not now, not until he was out of the sands, out of this place and was back to cooler, wetter regions of the world. But, by the gods it was hot! Valleck searched around him, peering over mounds of sand that extended for miles upon miles. Wait, what was that! An Oasis! Perfect! He heard the Benshiras talking about them. Rare as they were, they were beautiful and welcomed sights by any and all travelers. Finally, a respite. Valleck took a swig of his water reserves before trotting towards his new destination with excitement. It was a ways off, but not too far. He would reach it by sundown for certain! He would drink, fill his waterskin, drink some more, sleep, and continue in the morning. But the Oasis was a bit farther than he expected. His trot turned into a vigorous walk, which eventually faded into into a tiresome trudging once more. The Oasis, it was gone now, as was a majority of Syna's warmth. Surely it had just disappeared over the next dune, and Valleck would stumble across it in a few chimes, surely. Valleck fell to his knees. He hadn't slept in two days, eaten a good strong full meal in even longer, and he was down to a single drink of water in his waterskin. This was horrible. He needed a rest, a respite. Right there on the sands Valeck dropped to his side and closed his eyes. "Just a few chimes and I'll walk again." Little did Valleck know that the gods were more clever than cruel, for under him inside the slowly dissipating sand dune was a sword, strange and mysterious, yet had a mind of its own. This sword would become a very significant find in Valleck's lengthy life.

[Caedeserus]

The sword beneath the man has been in the desert for months. Waiting...just waiting...but the ghost of the Caedeserus had been past living for so long. Whats a little more time when he no longer had to run the race of life? Remnants of a small skirmish between a few unknown parties the sword was. Whatever little which was left of those men are now buried by the sands of the desert, the little bit which has yet to be eaten by vultures or slowly scraped away by the sands. But the sword still remained as close to the surface as it could. Every morning, every night the ghost would extend parts of its soulmist. Wrapping it around the hilt of the sword. And every morning, every night with the power it could muster it would push the hilt left and right to shake the sand off.

The ghost had been aware of the man now on the top of the sword for nearly a day now and has been hopeful of his arrival. Could he be the new wielder? Could he be the one who would teach him the true meaning of strength? The day before where one of the vultures were flying, eyeing for food the ghost did as he did whenever he could. Going to the vulture, the ghost would possess it matching where its "hands" would be to its wings and where its "legs" with the vultures and for the head you get the idea. It was hard but not as hard as other sentients. The vulture was a creature of instinct, craving for dead meat. All the ghost had to do was move the head a little at the direction of the human and tilt the wing-arms, the vulture continuing the journey in anticipation of new meat to follow the man.

"Strong?" the ghost asked himself when the man rested on the sands. "Taken far, the desert..." it answered itself thinking the man is at his brink. Concentrating on his soulmist the essence of the ghost, he formed them like building blocks giving him a more concrete form. Taking on the form of a weakly ragged old man, gray in the hair, bones showing through the skin and tattered rags for clothes one ghosts personal favourite of the two.

The ghost put its hands on the man's shoulder. As uncomfortable as the ghostly touch may be, for the man it may be welcome to awaken him from the dangers. "Vino...wake up" the ghost said gently and softly to the man on the sands.

[Valleck]

Valleck hasn't slept long when the figure roused him from his light slumber. Valleck's eyes opened the moment he was touched, always aware, sharp as a dagger and focused as could be, but his body was too weak to jump up and defend himself should it have been an assailant. His hands clenched sand as he pushed his head up from the ground and wheezing sand from between his lips. He looked up to see a ghastly looking old figure hovering over him, rousing him from his short albeit sweet slumber. He would have been perfectly fine to rest his head back down again and fall asleep once more. "I'm awake... I'm awake." Wearily, Valleck stood up, and even in his slouching tired stance, he towered over the old man by several inches (Valleck was a tall man in his youth). "I, what? Have you seen the oasis around here?" Valleck was afraid to think that his oasis was merely a mirage, but he had stalked it for longer than what seemed logical. Valleck pulled out his waterskin and, reluctantly finished the last of the water he had. It hurt his stomach some, a faint cramp as the body eagerly devoured the water. "Which way is Ahnatep? It can't be far from here. I won't last out here much longer without water or food." Valleck wasn't typically the kind to ask for assistance, but hunger and thirst tended to humble people more than they'd ever expect. Valleck too was humbled in that fiery desert.

[Caedeserus]

The man stood up after the attempts at rousing. Even at his weakened state he was able to stand taller than the ghost despite the slouch. Well at that form anyway. Had the ghost took on his armoured appearance things could be a lot more different. But living long with other people had taught him a thing or two to instinctively adopt the appropriate one. Looking up at the man, the ghost smiled a little as the thought came to him "Yes...he may be the one."

The man asked for an oasis, food and water as he drank from the waterskin. The ghost thought himself to be privileged to not be tied down with the cravings of the flesh, at least out here right now. Even the strongest bird when it comes to flying would have to land down on land eventually. Yes on those few times in the desert he had possessed the vultures to scout around he had indeed seen an oasis. A welcome hue of green and blue in this wasteland of yellow coloured doom. Pointing at its direction, the Caedeserus said "Go there, the oasis."

Before the man might leave, he had to know about the sword so that he can take it with him. After all this months who knew when the next unfortunate soul lost in the desert might stumble on this spot? Or that he would be strong enough to survive? While the man was still focused on him, he shot out some soulmist from his bottom area towards the sword right into the sand where the sword was. Hurling the sword at a minimum speed aimed at a little pile of sand jutting out as the point to stop. The force use helped to make the sand drop so that the sword would be visible to the naked eye. "Don't forget your sword, Vino." the ghost said as it pointed down at the sword.

[Valleck]

Valleck was just about to run off when the old man spoke. His sword? Of course, the shaking sand made a hole, oddly enough, and a weapon was standing there, as if reaching up at him. How strange, the sword wasn't his, he already had one, but it looked like such a nice piece of work. How could he refuse that? "I've... I haven't seen this weapon before. Is it not yours?" Valleck knelt down and wrapped his strong fingers around the grip and pulled the blade slowly from the sands. For several moments, Valleck had, surprisingly, forgotten he was hungry and thirsty, for the blade he was holding was more than just beautiful, it was powerful. It was well designed, and inscribed with a system of writing that Valleck had never seen. He had no sheath for the blade, and the sheath that held his longsword was too small to hold this strange elegant weapon. So be it, he would carry it. "Yahal, is this a gift? I shall wield it in your name. Old man, I thank you for your knowledge. May the gods bless your passing. Do not stray from the path of purity and Yahal shall see you blessed for it. Thank you." And with that quick blessing, for what it was worth, and with the Caedeserus in his hand, he started down the dune once again, moving in the direction the old phantasm directed him. If there truly was water, he was saved, and he knew he could make the trip to Ahnatep without worry. It must have been some sort of underground well or running stream, because when Valleck stumbled across the hole in the ground, there wasn't much to offer, except cool running water and a few plants hoarding its watery necter. But there was water! Valleck placed the Caedeserus on the ground as he cupped his hands together and brought water to his lips, drinking deeply from it. Over and over until his stomach ached and his face was soaked, then he filled his waterskin. He would take a moment to rest, just to examine this new weapon he had obtained. Now that he thought about it, it was such a strange occurance. An old man found him sleeping, in this vast of a desert. A sword just happened ot be buried underneath him. There was only one explanation that Valleck to think of that truly described this. It was a gift from Yahal. Valleck lifted his hand, palmside up and examined the marking Yahal had blessed him with, physical proof of the god's favor in him. Proof that Valleck had faith in Yahal, and Yahal had trust in him to do what was right.

[Caedeserus]

No response to the query about who the sword belonged to but the ghost watched. Watched attentively as the man pulled out the sword. From the way he gripped the handle to the way he pulled it out showed that the man had some experience with the ways of the sword. "Good..." the ghost thought to himself and when the man was lost admiring the sword, slowly its soulmist dissipated. Leaving nothing more of its presence for the man to see or be aware of.

The ghost in its invisible form followed the man to the watering hole. As it does with every wielder of the sword. Always following and never showing unless it really needed to. The man throughout had been praising the god Yahal. And finally at the oasis looked at his mark. The ghost peered in closer, curious only to see the mark as Valleck was looking at it. Though it had heard of gnosis in its long life, it didn't know much of their appearance. Thinking that the mark was only some tattoo of the man to mark his strength.

Now rooted with the man bearing the sword who was in turn rooted to the water, the ghost started to wander. Looking through the spot to marvel at its beauty. In a desert, water truly symbolized strength where every creature had to bow down to.

[Valleck]

Valleck continued to stare at the sword. He was still so surprised by the impressive detail, the amazing craftmanship that was put into it that he didn't even realize the figment of his imagination, the old man that gave him the blade, vanished as he reached for it. Strange, but true. "I don't even know what to do with you." Valleck shrugged his shoulders as he reached down into that cool puddle, splashing the frigid waters onto his face he grabbed the Caedeserus and stood up. He was exhausted, but the find of water, the brief respite from travel, and the fresh night's chill gave him enough motivation to move his legs once again. He knew, just by watching the rise of the moon, which direction he needed to move. East was to the sea, North was to cooler lands and more vegetation, and in that medium was another oasis of sorts, Ahnatep. The Benshira did not speak well of that place, but he had to visit it. He wouldn't last too many more days without a good meal, and the thought of a bed rather than sandy ground was just too tempting to refuse. So Valleck walked. His left hand open so he could stare with pride at the mark that Yahal had placed on him. It took years of dedication, following what most would call a foolish hope, but it was a vision, and it happened to be true in the end. Valleck wouldn't forget this, the faith in a god he never knew of, who saved him, and blessed him when he needed it most. There was something comforting in the fact that Yahal was watching him specifically, and found value in his life, as if he was given a second chance. Given he wouldn't have come so close to death if it wasn't for this crazed dedication, or perhaps it was desperation. Still, the outcome was well worth it. Valleck was changed for the better. Now, in his right hand, he held a sword. It was heavy, but not unbearable. It was strong and finely crafted, but more than an ornament. It was a true weapon, razor sharp and then some. If Valleck was believing correctly, then Yahal was the one that gave it to him, a second gift, which would mean Yahal meant for him to use it. The question is, for what? Perhaps he would meet Yahal again and get to speak with the god soon, and find the source of this. "Perhaps he should have given me a map as well. I don't suppose you can point me in the right direction can you?" Valleck grinned. It was strange being in the desert so much, you found yourself talking to yourself just so you don't go crazy from talking to nobody. Or did that perhaps mean you were, in fact, crazy? Bah, whatever. It mattered not.