"Mirac is HERE!" A voice boomed. A menace had newly arrived in Canis. A sword, fangs exposed, floated along. It did not seem happy--in fact, it's collection of red eyes had been in a furrow of disgust since it had delved into Canis. It glared at the bones that it floated above. "MIRAC thinks this cave is BELOW par. Everything is DEAD. What is the point in DEATH when there is no fighting. MIRAC, the sword of HELLFIRE, DEATH, and VENGEANCE, thinks death SUCKS ASS. Mirac, the one TRUE sword! He PUNISHES this cave!"
Mirac's jaws opened, it's gemstone whining as electricity gathered within its mouth. What normally would have been a destructive attack was instead misfired, the electricity rocketing through Mirac's own body. The shocks forced its jaws to snap shut, and it winced. Not from pain, of course, but from annoyance. "MIRAC wishes to DESTROY, but he will SPARE this land from his AWESOME WRATH for now. Mirac will DESTROY this land at a later date."
His gaze travelled from the bones to the cave itself, squinting suspiciously as he looked over the room. "Mirac's purpose today is NOT to destroy Canis, although he thinks it is ICKY and SUCKS ASS. Mirac is here to see the COLLECTOR who LIVES in this BAD dead BAD cave. MIRAC wishes to BARGAIN! Mirac wishes to GAIN!"
"speak" think
Ahh, well. He was summoned. And so here he came: a flash of red light before Mirac, and he stepped forth, a sweep of black robe and towering height, crimson pinprick eyes picking out the--sword??--as the portal swirled shut behind him.
He stared down for a moment, then placed his palms together, offering a little bow. He then spoke, tone mild and crooning. "Greetings, Mirac, the sword of Hellfire, Death and Vengeance, the One True Sword. First of all, allow me to extend my gratitude for your recent decision to spare Canis of your destructive wrath," and he made no effort to speak quickly, his words a placid drawl. "And second, please allow me to introduce myself. I am The Collector who you seek."
He paused, taking a moment to range red pinprick eyes up and down the Valksword's form. "What a mighty creation you are. A fascinating melding of weapon and organic beast. ...Lovely, really. So-! Tell me, Mirac, sword of Hellfire, Death and Vengeance, The One True Sword--what might The Collector do for you..?"
@Mirac
Mirac did not seem too surprised that the Collector seemed to appear out of nowhere in a flash of red. Mirac was used to the hallucinations chaos brought, not to mention the insanity of Draco, and a massive robed figure stepping from a red portal was far from the strangest Mirac had seen. He was, however, not immune to attention, as well as praise. The sword preened at the attention, his eyelids lifting, pleased. The Sword chuckled, and then spoke.
"Mirac is PLEASED you have shown yourself in front of Mirac, Collector. Mirac WISHES to destroy this cave, so it is only TEMPORARILY spared. He does not understand why you choose such a DEAD, unCHAOTIC place. It fills Mirac with UNHAPPY emotions. But you have appreciated Mirac's form as the ONE TRUE SWORD so Mirac LIKES you. Mirac did NOT make himself. Mirac was handcrafted by what Mirac has LEARNED is called a 'BLACKSMITH' which makes things which are BLACK. Mirac is BLUE and BLACK and a little RED so Mirac thinks they have done well. Yes, Mirac's blacksmith is more talented than ANY OTHER."
Mirac's tirade finished he thought to himself on what he wanted. It didn't take very long, of course.
"Mirac wants for little. Mirac has MUCH. But Mirac has a simple request for the Collector. Mirac had a GOOD DREAM which he wishes to become reality. Mirac wishes for the Collector to DESTROY all other swords in the caves. HERE--Mirac will SHOW you." Mirac reached for the Collector with his mind, trying to imprint the image of thousands of swords, daggers, and bladed weapons across the caves, breaking and disintegrating into dust all at once. The dream seemed to only cloud Mirac's own mind, and he grumbled in annoyance. Perhaps the Collector's mind was simply impenetrable? He watched for a while, enjoying it until he realized he had been talking to someone.
"Mirac does not have the TIME for these visions now although they are NICE." He shook himself out until the visions faded into warping black shapes at the edges of his sight, wiping his eyes with his ribbon to assure the visions were cleared. "Mirac APOLOGISES, for he cannot SHARE them right now. But Mirac's dream was VERY good. ALL blades died and were disintigrated into DUST. Mirac ALSO broke and disintigrated into dust in that dream, but Mirac thinks the dream was good until Mirac ALSO died.
"Mirac HATES other blades. Their existence MOCKS Mirac's blacksmith and Mirac's own PERFECTED form. Mirac tried to destroy all swords himself and EAT them but it takes MUCH time and Mirac was bored QUICKLY. Mirac thinks you may have something to destroy them all INSTANTLY."
"speak" think
((I wanted to use mirac's other table but it broke rip))
@Game Master Dark
He graciously skipped mentioning the 'Blacksmith' explanation, or asking anything more about Mirac's visions or failed magic.
But he swept his hand around the room, staring intently at the Valksword. As he did so, it seemed that images shimmered up, appearing all around. As though the very bones that lay dead and still rose up, clattering and moving, reforming into shaggy, spined and scaled monstrosities of all colors, shapes and sizes. They did battle in reverse: rising from the dead, their blood flowing back into their bodies, their eyes regaining life. Their fangs bared at their killers and they fought. All was in silence, wisps of ghostly shades--old memories of Canis--as the Collector spoke. "Tell me, Mirac; how do you think the bones got here..?"
He began to walk the trail, gesturing for Mirac to follow--not very far, but simply to show him. To show him an Overseer hunting prey among the bones. Or the clash of rebels against Chaos, a tangle of glorious violence. There was flesh, blood, magic, and the occasional flash of metal.
"War; destruction. Rebellion. Battle and chaos. Slaughter, in the end," he mused, coming to a halt at a little outcrop just ahead. He peered at Mirac, and the visions faded, leaving only bones. "When the battles are over, all that remains are bones and dust. Well--and gemstones, but that's-... The point is, my deathly-sharp friend, that were I to kill all the swords for you, you would have no foes left to fight for yourself. All you would have left would be dust, just as all Canis now has is bones."
He gestured to Mirac. "Of course, I could grant you a way to find the swords for yourself. Yes, it takes time, but at least if you have something to lead you to them it will be less... boring? Once they are all gone--ah; now that would be boring indeed."
The Collector paused, pondering, tapping his claws with arms folded across his chest. "Or perhaps a way to turn other swords to serve you, Mirac, if temporarily. Imagine that-! Fighting a foe who is armed, and taking their weapon for your own, controlling it with your own power..? To fight alongside you, for a time? Does that not interest you? Would that not be better, more interesting and far more fun, than simply turning them all to dust..?"
@Mirac
Mirac squinted, curious but suspicious as the Collector spoke. What irony could there be? Mirac's enemies all dead would be nothing but pleasing in his eyes. His eyes locked onto the Collector's hand as it swept the room. And then, pure glory. Glorious, valorous death in reverse, and then chaotic, unorganized battle. Feral and vicious, a battle unending. Mirac chuckled, watching the battles surrounding him with glee. "Now this Mirac enjoys. It is ALMOST as pleasing as Mirac's visions. Mirac ENJOYS this magic, Collector." He rumbled.
His eyes flicked back to the collector. "MMM? Mirac did not THINK about those things...," he began, but obliged when the Collector urged for him to follow. His eyes swept over the battle, watching as the rebels clashed with the soldiers of Chaos blood of every shade splattering about. He watched as the Overseer hunted down and executed what rebels it could find. Other gembound might have found this horrific, but Mirac was entertained. He cackled as he watched, a wild edge to his voice. "Mirac wishes to JOIN! Mirac wishes to--" He paused, the Collector's question crossing his mind. He locked eyes onto the Collector, and spoke his answer.
"...Mirac supposes that GLORIOUS BATTLE was the only way the bones could get here. They were FOOLISH to have killed each other, though. Mirac would have simply beaten his opponent to chrysalis, waited until they reformed, and then battled them AGAIN!" Mirac's face twisted as close as it could to a smile. He looked back to the illusion, and cried out as it began to fade. Bones and dust once more. The Collector had Mirac's full attention. Humming and hawing, he listened.
His eyes traversed the cave of death, thinking on it. Perhaps the Collector was right. Did Mirac truly wish for no opponents? No more swords to prove his superiority to? Only dust? Mirac hummed in thought. And then, the Collector mentioned a way to control them. His eyes flashed with interest as the Collector's speech verged into the territory of taking other's weapons. Proving himself the superior weapon by taking those less powerful, proving their inferiority. Proving Mirac's own superiority. His face twisted first into a smile, and then another wild cackle began.
"Mirac ENJOYS the way you think. Destroying ALL swords would be fun...but then they would be dead as these FOOLISH gembound are. Mirac, TOO, would be a SUCK ASS gembound. But Mirac instead CONTROLLING his opponent... YES! Mirac would do this! It would prove Mirac the BEST sword to ALL who dare draw their inferior metal--that Mirac would enjoy MORE than killing! Do you offer Mirac this?"
"speak" think
@Game Master Dark
What a surprise, the Collector thought dryly. Then he stopped, turned, and stood quietly to listen.
The Collector's senses sparked off something strange as Mirac spoke. At first, he'd pegged all the corruption flowing from the sword as its own--as the Creator's, all good and right and proper and as it should be.
But he noticed now the little band the implement carried with him, and found it fascinating. Magic--the same sort, no less--but what did it do..? He was distracted, rather abruptly, by the Valksword's repetition of that--one phrase.
The Collector blinked, refocusing.
"I do offer Mirac this," he answered, with warm amusement. "...However! I am, as a Collector, also a trader. Nothing that I offer is free. My price to you, for this thing, would be as follows..."
He paused. Mostly to give the sword a moment to focus, because it seemed very strongly intent on one given thread of thought at a time. "I will give you a name, and a description, of a Gembound. You are to find them, attack them, and do considerable damage--even force them into their chrysalis--but not kill them. More importantly? You will tell them you were sent to do this by another Gembound, whose name I will give you. Once you have done this thing, you will return to me, and I will grant you an item that gives you the power that you seek."
He smiled, crimson pinprick eyes narrowing beneath the hood, the smile audible in his next words: "Do we have a deal...?"
@Mirac
Mirac listened, his jaws half open in his excitement. He was oddly reminiscent of an overexcited dog, the way he seemed to almost pant. "Your offer INTRIGUES Mirac. He does greatly ENJOY battle! Mirac especially enjoys battle where no one DIES! A RIVALRY! GLORIOUS!" Mirac, the violence obsessed sword, simply assumed that the gembound he was to attack had agreed to this. That they would enjoy fighting Mirac, being horribly wounded or sent into chrysalis. Perhaps that Mirac was even sent to do this to train the other gembound. He was ironically almost innocent and unaware in this scenario.
"This is much like training this gembound, yes?" A dark chuckle, as he imagined training this potential gembound. Imagined the training he helped do at the Chaos Forge. "Mirac has MUCH experience training gembound. He is VERY good at it. Mirac agrees to your terms, Collector! Mirac will DESTROY this gembound NON-LETHALLY!"
To add drama and emphasis to his words, Mirac opened his mouth to let loose a crackle of electricity. His enthusiam overwhelmed his gem, and the void conduit rocketed across his own body. The black and purple electricity burned him and crackled across his own iron surface. The agonizing pain only earned another laugh from the sword, so giddy at the thought of his new task. "GLORIOUS PAIN! GLORIOUS BATTLE!"
"speak" think
@Game Master Dark
Clawed fingers dipped into his cloaked robe, pulling out a parchment scroll, which he then unrolled. He turned this toward Mirac: elegant black script had a gap in the bottom right, a place for the Valksword to touch to finalize this contract. "Just sign here," he coaxed.
If and when Mirac touched the page, it would sear a mark in the parchment, etched with embers and sending up a thread of smoke. And while waving this away, waiting for it to cool, the Collector would offer details...
"Find the one called Cyneweard. I know that he used to frequent Cepheus." (Perhaps the Collector had overseen, or overheard, this Gembound whilst quietly drinking tea there.) "He walks on two legs, but is covered in fur--smoky gray and a brighter brown. Ask his name to ensure you have the right target, and then tell him this--and remember it closely," he added, solemn.
The scroll was rolled up and tucked away. "Tell him that Prince Ruvaen found him wanting. That he is not a formidable enough opponent, and so will be destroyed." He paused. "-But do not actually destroy him, of course."
He could have detailed out how to make it more 'believable' but ahh, Mirac did not at all strike him as the conspiratorial type. Or the particularly clever type, for that matter. In fact... "...And as to training? Yes. ...Exactly."
@Mirac
When prompted Mirac would eagerly float towards the page, eagerly pressing his point into it. "Hmmm...Cynweard...in Cepheus....Mirac has HEARD of this place!" Mirac said. He rolled the name around on his tongue a few more times, trying to memorize it. "MIRAC understands. Mirac shall fight ONLY this Cynweard!" The Collector's second order gave it pause. It seemed almost...cruel, but Mirac was not sure why. The Collector's final words, though--the assurance that this was simple training--reassured Mirac in his purpose.
"Mmmm, this training is necessary to bring out Cynweards WILL and improve them, yes? He UNDERSTANDS! Mirac will only FURTHER this Cynweard's development with the threat of DESTRUCTION! YES! Mirac shall BATTLE this 'Cynweard', and tell him that he was sent by PRINCE RUVAEN to be DESTROYED in battle!" He laughed again, before abruptly then stopping short. His eyes furrowed in thought. "What is a PRINCE?"
"speak" think
@Game Master Dark
"A Prince is a little King. And a King," the Collector sneered, "is a word that some Gembounds give themselves when they want to pretend to be better than the rest. But they aren't," he added. "'Princes' and 'Kings'... tend to die remarkably young."
A shrug, and a wave.
"Have fun, Mirac. Ta ta." With a flash of red light, he was gone.
@Mirac