Kinslayer

Clank. Clank. CLANK!

Came the clamor of a hammers pounding. A noise so piercing, the neighbors all shut their windows, pulling down the heavy curtains in a paltry attempt at sleep.

Again and again the metalworker threw his weight into his swings and again and again the metal sounded it’s cracks, groans and sparks as the piton screeched into place. The elvish double scimitar was not Cirro’s first blade, nor would it be his last, but to his customer it was something far more. This, the finishing touches on a weapon that cost him a legendary fortune.

Cirro struck one last time and took a step back, wiping the sweat from his pale brow which turned into a full body stretch. His muscles ached horribly and he could feel tiny daggers piercing every inch of his unused wings as he attempted to shake them awake. Catching their blue and green translucent hues tainted from the smokey soot at the edges of his vision.

’That’s enough rest’ he thought as he carefully slid the blade into the special red water he procured. “Time for Cirro to do the real work.”

“Oh good. I was starting to worry I had come to the wrong place. I did come to you for an enchantment after all.”

Though the voice came low and and calm the reminder of the client sent a shock through Cirro. He placed his left hand on his chest as he held out his hand toward the voice. “Be quiet fool! Do you want to disturb the magics Cirro cast at play?”

His patron sighed, which required him to take a long breath first to do so. His face softened into an unreadable mask. “Sorry. I thought that’s what the pants were for.”

Cirro nodded his understanding. He needed to remember how little mortals understood of the intricacies of magic. Their short tragic lives left no time for such learning.

He looked over at his client who had walked in wearing a black as night suit of drakemail and who now sat upon a stool in a pair of poofy purple pants. Poofy purple pants were just the thing for this kind of magic, under these stars and with the circumstances as they were. He had no time to explain the details, the man would be dead long before Cirro could finish, but at least he had the respect to trust him. It was only respectful to give him something, a crumb. “The pants are insurance. If you wish to keep interrupting I could find-”

“No no. Back to your work, fairy. You’ll have no more trouble from me. It’s just…”

Cirro eyed him warily. His red eyes drifted to the windows and his pale jaw tightened in the moonlight as he spoke. “And I mean no ill will, but I didn’t ask you to do any smithing. My friend is an artisan blacksmith and he made that weapon flawlessly.”

Cirro cocked his head for a moment before chuckling a little. “Cirro didn’t mean offending little mortal friend. Cirro just preparing item for its final enchantment. The magics demand specificities and if Cirro no give, magics no hold. Are you understanding?”

The pale man nodded slowly, keeping his eyes from Cirro. “Just remember. Lightning.”

Cirro smiled a friendly grin. “Cirro knows, but Cirro promises more. This is why you come to Cirro.”

The client flipped his white hair back as he studied the muscular fairy once more. He smiled too, revealing his two long fangs, speaking as if reinforcing the thought in himself. “This is why I come to Cirro…”

That understood Cirro gestured for him to lie down on the floor. It was time to examine his magical energy to pair it with another summon.

The man did as commanded and Cirro wasted no time. He moved his hands methodically over the body, in a motion any onlooker would call a dance, and began chanting in the magic tongue. Calling forth all the elements, God’s and spirits, waiting for the ones that found the vessel and partner pleasing enough to call home.

For hours he toiled, days possibly. It was hard to tell. He had to give it to the elf, he hadn’t moved or eaten, which meant he wouldn’t have to interrupt to pee. Mortals peed frequently Cirro found, but this one hardly even breathed. Cirro was certain such dedication would lead to excellent results.

Then all at once he felt it. The powerful energy which perfectly matched the circumstances, presented themselves curiously over the blade. Then over the master. He heard their question whispered in the wind. So faint, you would have missed it if you weren’t listening for it. “The vessel is strong, but this imagery is new. Why this imagery?”

The question hurt Cirro personally. His pain born from the lack of compliment and his own lack of an answer. He replied honestly. “It just felt wrong before.”

He eyed the weapons new imagery of death, embedded deep into its black metal. Faint red depictions of humanoid decapitation ran up the right blade while charred corpses and lightning bolts ran up its left. Even its center handle was made to look like a bone. “It feels right now.”

A silence hung in the air as the energy swirled around its proposed vessel. Eventually, it pulled away and instead drifted toward the man lying on the floor. “What makes this… Vampire?”

Cirro went to speak but was surprised by an interruption. It seems his customer was listening to the wind. “This man is named Guenhyvar Bhen and I hail from the shadow realm. Until reciently I was nothing more than a petty thief and during a job I ended up finding a man in need. A mob of sorts named the friendly men have his lady love captive and he sought to make a deal with someone horrifying in order to save her. Instead, he made the introductions and I made a deal for what I thought was the power I needed. Instead, the terrifying creature made me… a particular type of vampire. One I recently discovered holds an expiration date. I already found a solution to save myself but seek your power to help me procure it. Then I need you to help me slay these friendly men for the multiple evils they commit. That’s the short of it. The long of it is far more, well long.”

The energy slowly came to a stop before Guen’s eyes, pausing. “Self knowledge. Greater good. Can’t get wet. Maybe. You are holding back information.”

Guenhyvar blinked, then with a smile answered. “A lifetime of information resides within me. You’ll have to be more specific.”

The energy hovered on that a bit before shifting itself to encompass the weapon. “What is this called? What would you call me?”

Guen rubbed at his chin. “Kinslayer. I’d prefer to call you the same.”

“Detestable, but also traditional… One final question. If I am to be your weapon, who will I be slaying?”

Guenhyvar smiled wider than ever. Making a joke out of what should never be laughed at. “A great many it would seem. I have made enemies of wizards, the proud, noblemen, murderers, rapers, theives and beasts. Giants, aberrations, lycanthropes, gods, vampires, succubi, demons and spirits. Wyverns, spiders, dragons and even the occasional tavern wench. Oh and recently a cult. For you to become my weapon, you would resign yourself to murder for my cause, otherwise you can be on your way.”

That was too far, Cirro had been watching him grow bolder but could no longer hold his tongue. “You will show respect or-”

Before them, the energy began to spark lightning within its cloud, producing a crack of thunder which cut Cirro’s speech to silence.

Cirro and Guen exchanged a worried look as the now materializing cloud formed a face which glowered into Guenhyvar’s eyes with a mighty fierceness. “Which cult⁈”

Guen swallowed, staring up into the face which hung inches from his own. Any ego crushed behind sheer survival instinct. “The cult of the death god. The cult of the unspoken-”

“SWEAR IT!” The energy boomed, as it shrank and shrank becoming a dark crystalline crimson in the process.

“I swear it on my life.”

“I OFFER YOU THIS PACT. PROMISE TO PROTECT THIS WORLD, AND SWEAR TO PROTECT THE GOOD WITHIN IT, BUT ABOVE ALL ELSE, VOW TO MURDER, MAIM, WEAKEN AND TEAR ASSUNDER ANY WHO SERVE THAT CULT OR THAT PROFANE DIETY! DO SO, AND I WILL PLEDGE TO REND EVERY FOE OF YOURS WITH ALL MY MIGHT AND WITHOUT A DROP OF MERCY. SWEAR IT UPON YOUR VERY SOUL‼!

Guenhyvar rose to kneel before the red mass, using his hands to pull back his clothing to reveal a Ruby in his chest. ”I promise to protect the innocent and punish the wicked. I swear to be a hero in a world of chaos and I vow to desecrate, dominate and destroy your enemies, the children of Death with all I have. I swear it upon my very soul!”

With a shock of red lightning to the gem on Guen’s chest and another bolt to the center of the handle the cloud spoke his acceptance. “PACT ACCEPTED!”

Guenhyvar shook in pain and in the blink of an eye the cloud was gone, but a dark red gem appeared in the dead center of the weapons grip. Guen stumbled to his feet and placed his hands on Kinslayer, spinning it and causing shocks of lightning to shoot off randomly as it moved. His face twisted into a wicked smile as he moved faster and faster until finally he slammed it down, slicing a chuck out of a nearby section of stone wall. Then Guen reached into his cloak and produced a large bag of gold which he through to Cirro. “Cirro, you really are the best. Here’s a little extra for… Well my excitement.”

With that he exited, poofy purple pants and all.

Cirro stretches his limbs once more as he pulled another weapon from a nearby scabbard. Most creatures would contemplate what they had just released upon the world, but not Cirro. Cirro had another order to fulfill and the only thing on his mind, was what form the next should take.