Wednesday, October 25, 2023

Ayis, the Primal Blade

    Bent past the breaking point, the apes rebelled against the Serpent Kings. And so, war came to Argathras.


    Weapons had not yet been conceived by mortals. The war was fought with fist, fang, and claw-- and crude but terrible magic. The apes fought valiantly; but for every battle won, another was lost. The struggle seemed unending, and the apes feared the dying of the light even in the dawn of the world.


    In desperation, they called upon the gods who had given them thought and purpose. The greatest of their shamans summoned the chieftains of their dog-men allies, and journeyed to a sacred fane in the heart of the jungle. There, upon an altar of uncut stones, they piled fallen branches and fragrant herbs and lit them ablaze. It is not known what nameless things they offered on that altar, strangled and broken. But at the end, when the flames had died away, the gods answered with fire of their own.


    In the midst of the ashes lay a sword, gleaming grim in the dim light. A scarlet gem lay in the hilt, pulsating like a heartbeat. "I am Ayis," whispered a voice in every mind. "Show me your enemies."


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    Ayis, the Primal Blade, is an avatar of the platonic ideal of "Sword", made manifest in the physical realm. It is a straight, pointed sword of an unknown material resembling iron. The grip of the handle appears to be bone. The sword does not break, bend, chip, rust, or corrode.


    Because it is the original, of which all blades are an imitation, or perhaps because of some virtue the gods placed in it, all bladed weapons are reluctant to meet it in combat. Any bladed weapon gets a sizeable penalty attacking or being attacked by it-- swords, knives, spears, halberds, arrowheads. Non-bladed weapons such as a club or a bullet are not penalized. The gods probably built in a way to keep it at bay from them or theirs if necessary. Picture a god whistling and the sword immediately comes to heel. It will not allow itself to be raised against a god.


    Ayis has something akin to consciousness, however its entire mind is of an alien nature, being totally bent on the purpose for which it was made. A sword may sing, but it does not compose songs. Ayis' whole delight is in warfare and slaughter, and it rejoices in shedding blood. The grim set of its mind is communicated with the one who carries the sword. The longer a mortal bears Ayis, the more in tune their souls become, until it becomes difficult to say which one is the wielder and which the weapon. Such mortals become great tacticians and strategists, with a genius for all forms of warcraft. However, their wrath and their violent tendencies are greatly intensified, and they may be as dangerous to a friend as they are to their foes.


    If Ayis pierces the heart of a living being, the minerals and certain organic material within the corpse will gradually coalesce into a lesser copy of Ayis. Like Ayis, these "corpse blades" are nigh-indestructible. However they do not share its other powers. Early humans uncovered the blades, grown within the remains of many serpentine corpses. These swords became the model and pattern of swords that humanity crafted thereafter. Because of these things, Ayis is also called Father of Swords.


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    After defeating the hosts of Nog, the apes built a house for Ayis. They built it around the altar where the Sword first appeared, using unhewn rocks which somehow fit together with barely a seam. In time, men found the shrine and entered. They could not read the strange signs painted upon the walls, but the Sword's name rang in their minds as soon as they laid eyes on it. Only one man survived the quarrel over who would pluck the blade from its resting place.


    A thousand years of warfare followed. The sword changed hands mostly by means of murder, betrayal, or theft. At last, by fate or providence, it came into the possession of a pious king. He returned it to the sanctuary, and bade his mages lay such spells upon the door that no thief would enter. But that was long ago, and who can say how long such magecraft lasts? Meanwhile Ayis sleeps, dreaming crimson dreams.

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