Let’s Play Confuse The Goat!

…if the goat gets pissed off, everybody loses

The Doclopedia #1,192

Bad Swords: Heartbreaker, The Sword That Destroys

Yung Ki was the greatest swordswoman of her time, perhaps one of the greatest ever. She had fought battles beyond counting, against both men and demons. She had saved lives, villages, cities and entire kingdoms over the last 35 years. If she had wanted it, she could have become Emperess.

But what he really wanted, she could never have, for the love of another was denied her. She was cursed by the very sword whose power had helped her attain her legendary status.

She had been a good, but not great student under Master Shen. He told her she had the heart and desire, but her reflexes and senses would always slow her down. He advised her to walk to a shrine high in the mountains and meditate upon her future as a warrior.

The road to the shrine had covered over a hundred miles and given her much time to think. By the time she was halfway back to her home town, she had decided that she would give up her dream of mastering the sword and instead study the way of the healer. But when she came to a flooded out bridge and had to take a little used detour, her life took another turn.

Walking through the forest, she came to a ruined village. Curious, she poked around for a few minutes, trying to discern what might have lead people to leave this place. She was looking into what had been a meeting hall when she saw a sword on the ground. It was very finely crafted and oddly free of tarnish, despite being here long enough for debris to cover much of it. When she picked it up, she felt a thrill run through her, along with the desire to test the sword out.

And test it she did. First back at school, where she quickly rose to the top of her class. He master was impressed with her and with the sword, which they learned was named the Heartbreaker, first used two centuries earlier by the swordsman Li Kung and later by General Zao. It had been lost for 50 years before Yung Ki had found it.

It was not long before she had left school and begun making a name for herself. It was only slightly longer that the sword began to show it’s curse. Although it took decades, she eventually realized just how bad the curse was.

The first had be Tsung, the handsome young archer that had won her heart with his kind ways, only to be driven away by her outbursts of rage fueled by jealousy that had no basis in fact.

Then had come Master Wu, he equal with a sword and a loving and virile match for her in all other ways. After three years, they had parted violently, she attacking him with both her sword and false accusations that he was with her only to ride on the coattails of her fame. He had run across a footbridge, then cut it loose, telling her that he would not kill her, for she was crazed.

Much later, there had been Ahn, the man who brought her some measure of peace before she began to untruthfully resent him taking her away from a life of battle. He had left one night after a bitter argument. The next morning, she found the letter he had left. It told how he had spent the last few months researching her sword and had learned that anyone owning it would forever be denied love or peace. He advised her to go to a very desolate place far to the west, near a ruined city, to learn more. She had laughed at that, until her servant brought her her breakfast and she drank her tea.

Upon drinking the tea, Yung Ki was filled with an inner peace, which allowed her to think more rationally now than she had in years. Yes, she would go to this place and learn more about Heartbreaker, despite a tiny voice inside her telling her not to. She got her pack ready and set out on horseback before noon.

She is here now, in an ancient place that the desert will cover within another human lifetime. The tiny voice has been kept tiny by the drugged tea she drinks, a gift from Ahn. Likewise, she has read his final gift, a second letter left here only hours before she arrived. It tells her that the sword will try to get her to kill herself somewhere in a civilized area, where it can later be found by a new owner, but if she dies out here, the sword will be lost for centuries, perhaps millennia. A small vial sits near her. Fighting the urge to take up the sword and leave, she drinks down the poison. As a warmth spreads through her, she pushes the sword into a crack in the ground and watches as it falls several feet. Smiling, she lies back and welcomes the peace of eternity.

Later, when the moon rises, I shall make a large fire to burn her body and the letter. In the morning, I will leave and let the desert claim her.

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Not In This Issue: Squid Mating Rituals, Ham And Ireland

…sorry about no ham

 

The Doclopedia #1,191

Bad Swords: Rotseeker, The Sword That Infects

“That there sword, it calls out to you, don’t it? It wants somebody to pick it up and to use it. But that’s just the start of the curse, ya know? After you touch it and feel that cold steel warming to your touch, your time in Hell begins.

Now, the legend will tell you that it was originally enchanted and owned by Father Hendrik, the legendary slayer of undead things. Truth is, even the folks in the Church are not sure that’s true, but since Hendrik did use Rotseeker…yeah, that’s the name he gave it…to pretty damned great effect against the hordes of the undead, they let the legend stand as truth.

So old Hendrik, he takes up this sword at age 21…nobody knows where he actually got it…and he goes out and starts cutting through the First Rising like he’s a dragon and they’re kobolds. You know, they say that in one day, he finished off 300 creatures from the walking dead to a master vampire, then finished off with the destruction of a lich! A gods damned LICH!

See, that’s the power of Rotseeker. One hit, even a nick, and the undead start to just fall apart. That’s why you’ll find no intelligent undead anywhere near where the sword might be. Hendrik killed their lot for fifty years and by the time he was done, the corporeal dead were as scarce as hen’s teeth.

And that’s where the curse comes in. See, old Hendrik, now in his seventies, didn’t have much to do. Oh, he’d preach some, but with no undead around to actually fear, folks listened to him mostly out of courtesy. It must have really put a burr under his saddle, ya know? Then one day, he hears about an evil ghost that’s driving folks mad, so he goes and deals with it pretty quick. That sets him on the path that doomed him, ghost hunter.

A couple of years and several dozen evil ghosts later, he goes to this abandoned hamlet that he’s heard is just full of ghosts. Sure enough, it is and Hendrik just starts slaying them, no questions asked. Problem is, these ghosts weren’t evil. They were innocents slaughtered by some mad baron 200 years earlier. Hendrik should have been helping them cross over, but he was on a killing spree.

So he comes to the final ghost, see, and it’s the spirit of the town priest. Just before the sword gets him, the ghost, who you can figure is pretty well pissed off, curses Hendrik and the sword. For a thousand years, Hendrik’s soul will be trapped in Rotseeker, aware of his sins, but crazed to slay the undead.

Meanwhile, the poor overconfident bastard that seeks to follow in Hendrik’s footsteps will slowly become infected with undeath from using. Takes years, maybe decades, for the effects to really show, but once they do, the cursed person changes into a ghoul, compelled to feed on dead flesh. The sword lays where the drop it, which is always on sacred ground. Then somebody finds it and the process repeats.

Or it did repeat, until Friar Albertus figured things out 30 years ago. Now, after 375 years of cursing, the sword is right there, in that heavily blessed case in this cathedral. You and I are as close as anyone can get without being blasted by holy enchantments, high level magic and maybe a dozen traps set by a dozen master thieves. You cross that there line on the floor and your dead before you know it.

Will anybody ever pick it up again? Hell, your guess is as good as mine. That curse will be active for another 595 years! A lot can happen in that amount of time and sooner or later, the intelligent undead are going to hear that Rotseeker is locked away. What do you want to bet that if things get really dark, some cleric figures out a way to take it up?”

Mrs Wangdoodle Does A Threesome With Bucky & Squint

…my eyes! Sweet Dog, my eyes!

Behold! Two Doclopedia entries today! Huzzah!

The Doclopedia #1,189

Bad Swords: Drakeslayer, The Sword That Compels

The two handed sword known as “Drakeslayer” is arguably the most famous sword of all in a world where firedrakes, 40 foot long dragons that breath 2,000 degree fire, are constantly at war with humanity.

Completely fireproof, the sword grants the same power to the person chosen to wield it. Additionally, the sword slows the aging process by half and increases the body’s ability to heal from wounds and resist disease. It also tells the user when firedrakes are near.

All of the above means that the holder of Drakeslayer is held in great esteem wherever he or she might go. Even kings and queens show deference to the mighty warrior.

But all of this comes with a price. The person bound to the sword will not stop seeking out firedrakes until they are all dead. More importantly, they will actively seek out the hard to find nests of brood mothers, which is tantamount to suicide unless one plans very carefully and has a large force. Sadly, the curse often overcome those using the sword and they charge in blindly. While many firedrakes are slain and the brood mother is often among them, the warrior is usually ripped to shreds. Those that have survived would never fight again.

When it’s owner is killed or unable to wield it, Drakeslayer magically transports itself to the town center of Renisor, there to await the next person worthy of using it.

The Doclopedia #1,190

Bad Swords: Eversharp, The Sword That Maddens

To look at it, Eversharp would seem to be no different than hundreds of other broadswords. It is well crafted and has a sharp blade, but aside from that, there is nothing special to see.

But once you have picked it up, it feels very right in your hand. Trying it out, you seem to be more skilled than before. You feel powerful. And so you buy it.

Eversharp works a curse slowly on the user. Each time it draws blood, you feel a bit more excitement. Each night your dreams are a bit more bloody and violent. Other people start to seem worthless as anything besides prey for your blade.

Eventually, you become a full blown serial killer, preying upon a certain type of person. This could be men, women, children, rich or poor. They could be of any race or species. All they are to you is a chance to satisfy the voices in your head.

When the crazed killer is finally caught or killed, the sword gets lost. It will not turn up again for months. When it does, it will be hundreds or thousands of miles away, ready for the next person to use it.