(This vision is in first person view, through the eyes of the blade’s owner.)

 

Upon touching the blade, you are struck with a vision. The half-orc child picks up the falchion, his growls and grunts of rage surge through your head as he is beaten and abused into submission. The scene changes to an arena some time in the future. Now, more skilled, the now named half-orc Balor, cleaves his way through hundreds of other slaves. He is trained to only see enemies. Gender, race, and ability are meaningless to him now. Time passes and the barbarian grows. His arms are strong and he shows no mercy. The same blade in hand, but it’s starting to turn red along its edge. For a time, Balor plays the part of the gladiator. He turns to the stands and roars angrily as people cheer at the carnage he has created. Many times, his vision fixates on an armored human male and a half elf female slave. The half-orc lusts for the female and his fury is near blinding at the male.

 

A rare moment of peace in Balor’s life, he finds the female half elf holding him in a fit of lust. You determine it to be mutual lust. Eventually, they were found. The armored human wears a unique helmet. It was styled like a unicorn with a single spike on the forehead. Her fate is unknown, but many times, the knight sends men to mercilessly beat the half-orc when he is unarmed. One evening, his rage gives him the strength to break free. He kills his assailants with his bare hands and tusks. Free of his cage, Balor escapes into the forests surrounding the city. In time, the half-orc manages to gather bandits, murderers, thieves, and all manner of evil men to come to his call. When he has a troupe of one hundred, he attacks the city he escaped from.

 

The attack is brutal and swift. Every man, woman, and even children caught in the path of the warband are killed without mercy. Eventually, the warband makes its way to the castle, high on the hill. Another shift occurs, your arms burn with fatigue. Balor sees the same arena, but this time it is not a match, it is war. The raging blood tainted vision of the barbarian shows a grotesque scene of death and despair. His enemies die and so does the warband. But the members of the warband are merely tools to the half-orc. The scene fades to white. The barbarian is on his back. A blurry figure shuffles towards him. The armored man holds his side, clearly a fatal injury. In his other hand he has only his helmet. Then Balor strikes. He leaps up and grapples the human, grabbing him by the face and crushing in part of his skull. As the human screams in agony, a sharp pain pierces your chest. Looking down, the human knight impaled the half-orc on the spike of his helmet. Knocking Balor onto his back, he rips the helmet from your chest, and beats you to death with that helmet.

 

The next vision is clearly in the afterlife, after climbing out of the river of souls, blade in hand still. All manner of nightmarish creatures assail the half-orc. He kills them all. Even the envoys of Pharasma fall to his blade. The barbarian’s attention is called towards a tower in the distance. After what feels like an eternity, Balor arrives at Pharasmas Boneyard. Here, as various servants of the goddess try to subdue him, the half-orc kills and cleaves his way to the heart of the building.

 

Eventually, the servants stop appearing and a single door appears, blanketed in fog and white light. Rushing inside, Balor looks around as his vision clears and when he looks up, he sees the giant-sized goddess pharasma. With a motion, she disarms the barbarian. With a second, he falls to his arms and knees, feeling the gravity on him almost a hundred times more than it should be. The stone floor cracks slightly under his weight. The words the goddess speak are meaningless to him, but you hear her say: “All of this suffering and hate put on one soul… So many scars and yet you still thirst for more violence…” As she continues, the half-orc finds a rage so deep and dark in his soul, that his vision becomes as red as his blade. Taking his falchion, he manages to stand again, blade at the ready. He intends to attack pharasma.

 

He pulls his arms back and swings with all his might. In a flash of blinding light, the blade spirals out of his hands, flung to the far side of the cosmos. But frozen in place, Balor’s hatred filled eyes fixated on pharasma. For a moment, her face is one of shock, then it fades back into a neutral state. Her words are calm but cut you as if they were daggers. “This is what you are then. Not a person, nor a weapon, but a monster. You will be judged accordingly.” The barbarian is levitated into the air, pharasma holds out her hand in declaration and says; “May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry…” and for a moment, silence enters the half-orcs mind as her final words manage to reach you both. “… and may we never need you again.” A final howl of rage echoes in your ears as the vision vanishes. You awaken to find bruises and small cuts have appeared where you have felt and seen the injuries previously stated. They will heal normally.

Author Vendon
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Game: Pathfinder
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