Tyvail, Simplicity. If only.
"Were it so easy, my masters." Tyvail breathed as weariness once more crept into his mind, something was haunting him and it reflected deeply in his eyes, "A year ago a came across a village plagued with an infestation, one that was far beyond my capability. I...I was unable to determine the true cause of this infestation, I still seek the answers for those who have lost their lives... I would tarnish their memory if I merely stopped." He shook his head as he realized that his words were somewhat incoherent.
Taking several deep breathes Tyvail opened the Grimoire, or rather the book seemed to come to life as the pages moved by themselves until it felt it was at the appropriate placeholder for the tale. The time-stained pages seemed blank at first until the paladin spoke, "It was a year ago in the village of Areita, I heard a disturbing rumor of people vanishing leaving on blood stains and severed limbs to mark the missing. I thought foolishly that perhaps I could assist them, still I sent my report as protocol demanded yet as the days passed I learnt that my chosen messenger was amongst the recently deceased meaning. I was forced to decide to either wait and attempt to contact the temple through another messenger or to investigate alone. Naturally I choose the latter, time had been lost and I knew it would days perhaps weeks for assistance to arrive..."
The pages now flow with ink as the inert magic was awakened, in one fluid motion still images were drawn, of a village cast in a long shadow, frightened mothers, fathers, of frightened sons and daughters. The page turned revealing a hesitant Tyvail, "At first I believed it to be bandits who recently turned to demon-worshiping, the killings were random, it was sloppy... or at least that was what I thought..." Tyvail closed his eyes as an image of a cloaked figure was drawn, hidden within a living shadow save for it's glowing blade; A bastard sword covered in countless runes and decorated with the souls it had devoured. Somehow the still images were able to capture the very screams and pleas of the lost, those who had been slain without mercy by this blade.
"On my fourth night within the village I witness the creature take it's next victim, I was powerless to stop it... my incantations, my wards, my shield.... nothing.... the blade and it's pet merely claimed what they willed before turning to me. With but a single stroke they cut me down... leaving alive to spread fear and sow doubt within the village." The next page held the image of a humiliated paladin who knelt in prayer and repentance.
"Were it not for the local clergy I may have lost my will to continue, somehow the blade was able to pass on the despair of it's prisoners, the despair of the hundreds of souls who could only watch as they watched their loved ones slaughtered like livestock... it reveled in their cries... and so too did it's pet." The paladin took a moment to regain his composure as if he was reliving the events, "I knew I could not best him. But I also knew that I could not turn away from those in need. Paying no heed to the clergy I left their care to face the demon once more. " A desperate battle took place, the images showed that Tyvail was fighting a losing battle, the images grew more and more vivid as every page was turned, one could almost hear every time the blades met, the dull metallic clang and the wet wrench that signaled rending of flesh until finally it showed Tyvail once more on his knees, the cloaked figure stood victorious but as the page turned it was Tyvail who was smiling, as the image expanded the ground was covered in his blood but the area around where the paladin knelt held significance for he had painted several runes using his very blood.
"It never realized the duty of a paladin, my duty is to the innocent, not to myself. Had it not been for the relics the answer would never have come to me and I would have certainly been slain." The pages seemed to burst into fire as the runes began to glow, a hollow cry began to erupt from blade as it was forced to remember it's defeat, "Because it had taken my blood, it was beginning to claim my soul as it's own, it was trying to trap me within... I allowed to do so, I became the bridge so that the relics could purge it from the inside. Whilst I still lived I am an avatar of the light, that was what you taught us and as a paladin, I. am. sacrifice."
The figure seemed to howl in fury as it was cast back into the abyss, unable to hold the blade any more, leaving it's host crippled by the few wounds Tyvail had been able to deal it, the bound demon and the representations of the two relics seemed to battle within the blade until darkness fell... the pages went blank once more. "When the ritual was done, I was able to exorcise the blade to an extent, a victory for the light.... but at a price you as my masters will find much too costly.... My very soul is anchored to both the blade and the relic, I feel the blade tugging at me whispering promise of power, while the Grimoire and Lantern prevent the darkness from truly claiming my body. I was able to liberate the lost, guide them towards judgement's gates but was unable to lift it's curse... to purge the demon within the Blade of Thirsting.... The prison of Kal'Drwer..." The candles seemed to flicker at the mention of the name.