Wayward Guidance (1)

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Summary: Ink is not a good mystical guide.

Legends foretold of a weapon

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Legends foretold of a weapon. A blade crafted from the purest sunstones capable of bending light to the user's whim and banishing darkness to the deepest corners of oblivion. Few people were qualified to touch - let alone gaze upon - the legendary sword, as it was once said to have been wielded by Dream, the God of Light himself. Only a being as pure and righteous as he could hold it. The blade which many called The Sword of Light. One would expect such a revered artifact to be highly guarded, sealed away in a castle's treasury, or cast in stone until a worthy hero arises. Alas, that wasn't quite the case. The very same legends etched into cavern walls and recited by books of yellowed paper told of a different fate. A grand journey.

Beyond the reaches of civilization in wilds untamed, past lush mountains and treacherous terrain, there laid a hollow- a cavernous mouth stretching across the earth, ready to devour those who wander inside. Those searching for a great prize: The Sword of Light. The road to it, however, was not easy. Twisting tunnels and complex puzzles lined the pathway, rumored to have been set by the God of Japes to test a hero's strengths. Accompanying the tricks and traps were beasts. Monsters with faces and shapes unlike any had seen. Their sheer strength unfathomable, prowess in combat like that of a well-seasoned warrior. A common thief's worst nightmare. Yet that alone did not make reaching the innermost sanctuary unreachable. To advance further than the first ten levels, one needed a chosen guide (guardian spirit) to lead them through lest they lose their way, becoming another stray soul amongst the madness.

And, as luck would have it, fate smiled down upon the figure trudging through the dungeon floors. He, much like the many heroes before him, was a monster. A skeleton monster- sturdy, features slightly rounded, and tall (-er than the average height of 4'5"). The standard white colored his bones in contrast to the uncommon black/grey or rare hue some had, and the eerie dots serving as his pupils shone the same shade. Though, his right eyelight was known to shift to red depending on his mood. Another key feature that set him apart from those similar to himself was the long, jagged crimson scar that rested just below his right eye socket.

A relatively close call from a past mistake; Any closer and that eye would have been rendered useless.

Physical appearance aside, the mysterious hero's attire spoke more than a thousand words about his character and skill. Heavy, white/black-dyed leather made up a majority of his armor while snowy tufts peaked out from the collar and sleeves. The fur-lining grew thickest around the neck/shoulders, puffing out to create a fuzzy hood. Neither his chest piece, greaves, nor boots were horribly complex or intricate in any way. They had the bare minimum of style, and the only mildly elaborate thing about them happened to be a series of leather straps; Two of which ran across each side of his chest in a bandolier-esque fashion and met in the back, where his great sword's sheath laid. All neatly clasped together by a golden buckle adorned with a silver dragon skull. In addition, each armor piece bore variously sized and lengthed cuts/patches. However, despite its evident use, the leather was well kept- oiled every month with the best oil money could buy to prevent the articles from drying out and weakening.

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