A Soul, Bound to Steel
A D'veen Tale
Welcome back to the realm of D’veen! Please find links to my other D’veen stories at the bottom of the page, and as always, enjoy!
Hello there, traveler! Take a seat by the fire and warm yourself. You are in the company of Finton Merrybrook, the greatest storyteller in all of D’veen! You may have heard about my tales, carried by the winds that sweep across this dying world.
I’m most known for the story of Giant’s Bane and the Verack Horde; I know, ancient history at this point, but the history of D’veen is full of powerful tales!
I must admit, my memory has become less intact as age takes hold. Even so, one story is clear in my mind on this crisp, cool night.
I recall the tale of the Anima-Parthax, a weapon forged by the unholy marriage of magic and science. A weapon that, as you may know, once brought this realm to its knees.
Comfortable? Good, then let us begin…
Eons ago, I was a man. Now, I am a weapon. A soul, ripped from its mortal coil using forbidden magics and cast into a form beyond equal with the help of science and technology not native to this realm.
It was not my choice; I would have preferred to cross the veil when my time was at an end, but those in power rarely care about the desires of others.
The ones who created me knew that such power had to be kept in check. It must have a conscience. Otherwise, it would fall into the hands of the wrong individual and destroy all of creation.
So why, then, was I locked away to rot in some underground vault? Built from stone and guarded with ancient magic. Instead of wallowing in my eternal torture, I took a stand. I did not allow anyone with a cursed heart or sick mind to wield me.
Despite everything, I was cast into endless darkness. This was a fate too cruel for even the worst of offenders.
I was sentient; I could perceive the passage of time. I knew not how much had passed, but I felt every moment. Were I a being of flesh and bone, my mind would have shattered long ago.
But alas, I am a soul bound to steel.
My memories are the only company I’ve had across these eons. Memories of fighting in righteous battles, wielded by the hands of kings and madmen alike as I struggled to forge my own set of rules for who I would allow to wield my power.
After countless centuries, the righteous path became too exhausting. Understanding the true nature of power and those who wield it was a task too great, even for me.
And so, I bequeathed my power how I saw fit. Eventually, all it took was a compelling argument and a strong conviction to force me from my sheath.
Of course, a weapon like myself cannot be bound to a single form. My metal body changes shape and size based on the times, the wielders, and whichever form benefits the battle most.
Trapped beneath the stone, I am indestructible, unknowable, and utterly bored.
Though I rarely dreamt, I thought I had somehow slipped into an ethereal coma when I heard voices coming from outside my underground chamber.
“Can you open it or not? Those things will be on us any minute!” a voice shouted.
“You cannot rush this. One wrong move, and we’re all dust,” another said.
“Would have been nice to know that beforehand,” a third voice remarked.
I analyzed their language, the pitch of their voices, and the cadence of their tongue. Yes, a sword would do nicely.
I morphed myself into a stunning claymore, emanating a soft blue glow as the door to my chamber slid open. Three figures entered. A dwarf sporting a long braided beard, an elf woman with her bow at the ready, and a hulking orc with bright green skin and yellowed tusks.
“A sword, seriously? This is why Dwarves are the treasure hunters.”
“I am no mere sword, I assure you,” I said.
The trio tensed up simultaneously. The Elven woman tightened the string on her bow as if her paltry arrows would harm me.
“We should leave. Nothing spells doom like a talking weapon.”
The orc dismissed her comments with a wave of his massive hand. “You’re too superstitious. Such a blade will fetch a fine price from our benefactor!”
“Oh no, you will not be taking me from here to place me back into some display case. I will not allow it,” I said.
The orc stepped forward, grinning through crooked teeth. “You don’t get a choice, little sword.”
I sent out a warning blast of magic from the center of my blade. The surge of blue lightning struck all three would-be treasure hunters and knocked them to the ground.
“Now, perhaps we can discuss this like civilized folk?” I asked.
“I’ll break you upon my knee!” The orc snarled.
The elf saw reason and held out her hand to stop the foolish orc. She would be the one to negotiate with.
“What is it you want?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing too complex. I just want to see the realm, travel the stars, and fight in battles that decide the fates of entire kingdoms. You know, the greatest hits.”
The elf raised an eyebrow. “Greatest hits?”
“Right, your kind hasn’t invented music yet. My apologies. When you do, however, you should know I can sway an entire crowd as a weaponized guitar. You wouldn't believe the things people will do when under the hypnosis of a good rock ballad,” I said.
“The sword speaks nonsense!” the dwarf shouted.
“I’ll make things easy for you then. Do not take me to some collector; no doubt old and brittle. Instead, take me and use me to carve your names into history. Together, we would be unstoppable!” I said.
The trio seemed to like the concept. All of them nodded along to my proposal.
“Fame, riches? I want to be feared!” The orc growled.
“Of course, all of those things could be yours!” I said.
The elf stepped forward. “I could have vengeance for my people!”
“Yes, absolutely! Now you’re beginning to understand!”
“With that kind of power, the Dwarves would no longer be limited by our rusting machinery. We could finally conquer the bowels of the realm and reap its hidden treasure with ease!”
“Yes! Take hold of me, and let us define our legacy!” I shouted.
The trio sat in silence for a moment before the orc started laughing. The elf joined in soon after, followed by the dwarf. It was perhaps the first time anyone had laughed at anything I’d said.
I didn’t like it.
“What are you laughing at?” I asked.
“Even if you spoke the truth, your promises would come at too great a cost,” the elf remarked.
“Well, the price of power is high…”
“You’re clearly some sort of cursed object. Wielding you would lead only to ruin. You must think us fools!” The dwarf said, shaking his head.
“No, not fools, partners!” I said.
“Let’s get out of here; we have plenty of spoils to bring back to our benefactor. Mercifully, none of them can speak, either,” The orc said, turning back to the door.
“No! Don’t leave me here!” I shouted.
The trio closed the door to my chamber, and it fell once again into abyssal darkness. It was certainly not the triumphant return I had hoped for, but I remained hopeful nonetheless.
“They’ll be back.”
As I predicted, it was not long before the door to my living tomb opened once more. I waited silently for the group to step back through, at which point I would graciously accept their apologies for disrespecting me.
Instead, whatever passed for fear in the body of a living weapon took hold. A hulking figure dressed in smooth, silver armor filled the doorway. A deep blue light escaped from the seams between each piece, filling the room with its haunting glow.
A sleek helmet encompassed the entire head, with an aerodynamic shape ending in a sharp point on the back. It was a familiar suit of armor and not one of this world.
“What are you doing here,” I asked, struggling to mask my fear.
“Is that any way to greet your father?” the figure asked with a synthetic voice.
“You were a father to a being of flesh and blood. I am no longer him.”
My father stepped through the doorway and approached with decisive steps. I sent out another blast like the one that had knocked the adventures off their feet.
The aura of magical energy passed over him like a gust of wind, doing nothing to slow his approach.
“You’ve had your fun, but now it is time to fulfill your true purpose,” he said, wrapping his armored gauntlet around my hilt.
“I will not fight in your unholy war! This realm is not yours to take!”
My father tried to pull me from my resting place, but I morphed to fill the space between and became one with the monolith beneath me.
My father laughed from behind his mask. I heard the crackle of electricity, and without warning, my vision was filled with blinding red light. I felt pain unlike anything I had experienced when I was a mortal being.
“Thought you had left pain behind, did you? Test me again, and I will show you true agony.”
I was powerless to stop him. My father lifted me in my sword form. Another pulse of red lightning forced me to shift into the shape of a two-handed battle axe—his preferred weapon despite its primitive nature.
My father turned and carried me across the threshold and back into the world I had left behind eons ago.
“Let us depart, my son. We have a realm to conquer.”
Gasp! Father?!
Do we know what happens next?
This was a really fun listen Bradley. I could literally visualize the setting and the characters as you were narrating which is always a powerful sign of great writing. ♾️💜💋