[center][img]http://orig04.deviantart.net/992f/f/2016/274/0/9/blackblood_by_fenixking13-dajgrkh.png[/img][/center] [center][color=1b1464]Mithril Blackblood[/color] [color=aba000]The Golden Sword[/color][/center] [@liferusher][@adamnfiddle][@Lucius Cypher][@GamerXZ][@FamishedPants] Mithril was in no state of mind to try and decipher the mystery of his savior or why the blades had not turned him to a tattered pile of flesh on the cobblestones and frankly speaking he wasn't about to waste any time thinking about it. His every single thought was preoccupied with retrieving what was his, the only thing in the known universe that mattered, and the mad killer wasn't taking no for an answer. It screamed at his every thought that even teased at retreating, of strategy, anything at all. The golden voice was absolute. Malakaus, the giant Orc bleeding to death a few feet away, had displayed great valor in knocking the possessed girl unconscious despite the many life threatening wounds. From the lack of attack coming from the summoned swords it registered very briefly that the elf girl must have broken her neck on the jump down or something along those lines. A fleeting thought for later. In a flash he crossed the distance to the pained Maria, desperate to hold onto the sword as it assaulted her mind. Mithril shared her pain almost as if he was experiencing it himself. If not for the command of his master he might have faltered in the assault. He heard the wail of disapproval flowing from the swords outrage. A pure being, unblemished by chaos or the many vices of weak willed beings, was repelling the absolute domination. A feat few boasted.. Already the sword had subjugated the weak willed gawkers in the crowd. The suppression weakening their already fragile subconscious into a state that left them oh so willing to adhere to the telepathic commands of their new treasure. But the time was not right. Like a wall he heard the scream echo from the blades mind into his own. [color=ed1c24] Kill Kill Kill Kill Die Die Die DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! [/color] The blast knocked Maria from the sword and the fabulous shining sword from the filthy hands of a purity.. Straight into Mithrils waiting hungry grasp. Nothing else mattered but the sword. His sword. His key to the future. To power and wealth! The others stood in his way. A lions roar escaped his throat as the shining golden blade stabbed into Alephs stomach, nearly erupting out the opposite side as the razor sharp blade parted skin and flesh with familiar ease. The wound would not be fatal if he acquired aid soon, so Mithril gave the handle a twist to open the wound yet more. Still the hunger for blood roared in his mind, directed at the bitch who dared resist the call. A call now echoing to the growing crowd. Like a lantern flaring to life the atmosphere changed. The weak willed idiots lunged out at each other, driven to madness, a few even rushing at the ice spike mantled caster ([@Seirei No Hai]) without any regard to safety. Anything they held was a weapon now. Their eyes revealed the mad obsession that overwhelmed them. It teased the strong willed with a persistent whisper of violence. To slaughter and kill. So great was the swords outrage. The soul within the blade called for the timely death of one [color=fff79a]Maria von Hohenzollern[/color]. Craving her rich blood across the smooth unblemished surface of its edge to try and slake the eternal thirst that plagued it. Indeed Mithril was about to turn and slash at her.. The softest flutter of relief spread through his soul. A warmth he had not felt in decades. Freedom.. He felt it more than saw it, the shackles in his mind had loosened as the spirits tantrum finally reached a boiling point. Rather than controlling Mithril completely it had spread itself thin in every direction.. "NO! NO MORE!" His mask had been chipped away during the icicle blades swirling violence, the metal shaven clean off to reveal a single hazy red eye. Like Tanis, what little of his face revealed in the light was streaked with tears. His own lust turned against him. His need for power to protect the ghosts of his past had caused this. Had always caused this. Mithril had been denied that simple thought since taking the sword and leaving the tunnels. Denied the right to mourne for his atrocities. Mithril turned on his heel and ran. His knuckles turned white as he grasped the sword tight, if he could just.. Remove himself. The sword was not ready to give up the fight but it did not argue the conscious decision of his favored puppet. Indeed the chaotic nature of its being enjoyed it very much. Why die here and return to some frigid wasteland to await another wielder? No force it knew of could banish its form without great effort. Kingdoms had failed in that very attempt time and time again. The blade sent a telepathic message to the being known as 'Chastity'. A quick little greeting and a simple request. Fight and Flight. Kill then retreat. The brave fools of this city, the strong and the brave, had been shown their lesson by defying a power greater than themselves. They had been shown the destination that awaits anyone unprepared to risk their life to stop it. It savored the idea of a new wielder, one who surpassed its current one, and reminded Mithril of that very fact as it channeled its dark energy into him. The process of healing his many wounds would take quite some time.. More to heal his cauterized flesh. But such was the price of keeping a toy in good shape. Three crosses became two as he ran. The oppressive smothering aura fading away on the breeze. When he was finally gone from sight, dodging the hounds stalking his heels and covering his tracks as random citizens became enthralled at his passing to further slow down the pursuit, Mithril emerged far away from the the burning buildings and the royal palace. In a lonely alleyway he waited. The other madman would not be thrown off as easily..