Reflections on the Dįvonësë War: The Dįvįnë Will Bear Witness to Fate

Chapter 7 - The Songs of the Swords

Digression 4
38th Day of Ope in the Third Month of Snow's Fall
4633 A.G.G. (Present Day)

The Old City, Beneath Castle Įcħor-Nåbįlå, North of the Yavan Mountains
The Continent of Kazakoto
2:40 P.S.R. (Pre Suns Rising)

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On the Subject of Half-Sabers

The half-saber, a unique if not obtuse weapon, allows for slicing and gutting in close combat with its straight, nearly waist high blade. And it's lengthy staff-like hilt is normally utilized as a kind of focus for releasing the Magister's spiritual might who wields it. A single Magi wielding one of these fearsome weapons was said to have the ability to send an entire company's worth of men to their graves in open conflict. A myth that was put to the test and founded in truth in the throes of the Dįvonësë War.

Half-sabers became the weapon of choice for frontline abyssinians and fulani as far back as the Ten and Five Year Wars; known colloquially as Battle-Mages and War-Mages respectively. Almost exclusively. And they became weapons to be feared in battle. Men and women were known to rally to them when they appeared on the field as they would to their general's banner.

Battle and War-Magi numbers were few before the time of the Magi War. In the modern world, they were a downright rarity. Learning to harness and focus the violence of nature on whim without the luxury of time and prep wasn't for the faint of heart. And doing so effectively without tearing yourself to pieces was difficult. And as to be expected with such aggressive use of heka, their life-spans were rather short in comparison to most other Magi, with the exception of the necromantics and askews.

But what they lacked in numbers, they made up for in sheerdestructive force by leaps and bounds. 

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Aoleon

Even among such a powerful and fearful lineage of weapons, this particular half-saber was altogether different from its historical peers. Its long staff-like Drågon bone hilt was carved into the likeness of the mighty creature it was taken from; coiled tightly about the weapon's otherwise exposed blackened tang. Its wings held sleekly to its body. The claws of its lower legs bleeding over, as opposed to a cross guard, a halberd-like beak and crescent blade which were so ornate that they were almost decorative, before clutching the base of the "sword" end of the weapon proper. Meanwhile its upper taloned "thumbs" (nearly indistinguishable from the wings themselves) reached up over its head to hold fast to a large and roughly hewn chunk of red crystal nearly the size of a man's fist, which was engulfed in carved silver-green flames which blasted forth from the bone Drågon's gaping maw.

Within its large sheath, the blade stirred energies that were nearly unfathomable. A consciousness that shared a thousand thousand consciousnesses. And they were all speaking to Samahdemn with unrelenting fervor as his daughter first entered the room.

The feline's tail settled low anxiously in this moment and poofed out to twice its normal size as her fur stood on end. Moving closer to protection near Aoleon, she crouched down slowly into a tense, attack ready stance; prepared to attack the castle-lord if need be. Aoleon couldn't communicate with as her father could. But even a blind man could see in her body language that she'd never really liked it when he held the swords. Even at the best of times. It was as if he was never himself when they were in contact with each other. It scared her. And the albino princess found herself tensing up in much the same manner as she realized what was happening.