THE THIRD SWORD




Many years ago, when the art of magic had reached its peak and Sendinior, the most powerful of all magicians, was soon threatened with death, the ruler of the shadowy realm broke out a mighty war.


- Thousands of drooling claw-and-tooth creatures, heavily armed and with tremendous forces, marched across the plains of the land and devastated the area. They came from the realm of Muragecht 's and the dark ruler let the armies of the two mighty countries clash and slaughter each other. -


All the creatures of evil came together and stood against the forces of good to finally be the sole rulers of the world.


- The mightiest war of the time raged with many bloody victims and one enemy was worse than the other. Dark crippled beings destroyed and shattered the good with only a brief flare of hatred, but the humans fought back with all of their power by waging the battle near Death Rock and slowly trying to drive Muragecht 's men back. -

A bitter struggle arose and ended with the death of Sendinior, who was impaled on the Hades rock by the inquisitor of evil, Muragecht.


- At first it was just like a skirmish between shadows, but then the dark one drew his sword. It was as sharp as a diamond and forged from the hardest metal the countries had ever invented, but the ore was only enough for this one weapon, because it was special rock. Rivers of magic had spread within it and only a strong wizard could wield it. Sendinior held against it with his staff, but finally part of his strength waned, he succumbed to Muragecht, was thrown against a rock and nailed there with his sword. -


But before the spirit of the magician died, he gathered all his energies in the one sword and made it a symbol of holiness, which let all evil be extinguished with a huge tidal wave of light.


- The wizard screwed up his eyes and slowly mumbled a spell that he had been rehearsing for years for emergencies.He felt the magic flowing through his body and slowly dissolving, but at the same time his soul and spirit disappeared into the silver blade of the weapon and the remaining blood was shed without any further residue. Suddenly it began to shine in a bright light and a volley of rays of bright light exploded from the Hades rock and enveloped the world in a white ribbon. Immediately everything bad turned to dust and for now the battle was won. -


But several times later, Muragecht 's soul began to regenerate and bundled all his armies to attack the Hades rock, on which the largest fortress in history had been built to protect the legendary sword.


- In the dark stone halls a fog escaped, a fog of exile and, as if on command, Muragecht's corpse emerged from the cold coffin. Full of hatred for his years of exile, he resurrected two lackeys of death and called them into his service.With their help he would soon have power over the whole land by storming the Hades rock and drawing the holy sword from the stone. So he called death and negotiated with him about the fate of the other evil forces, and the latter agreed to resurrect the dark men. Immediately the dark magician broke out another war, the war for the legendary sword and for the final power. -


But the Hades rock fell and so Muragecht came to the almighty weapon.


- He walked coolly through the ruins, which were illuminated reddish by the boiling light of the lava and thus formed terrible shadows. There was a smell of death and ashes in the air, and there were burning debris, stones and beams everywhere. Sometimes a slender servant, already half-eaten by maggots, would pass by, dragging gold and jewelery with him. Further ahead, a dusty sword protruded from a cobwebbed wall.It had a white sheen and, through its mere presence, seemed to bathe its surroundings in glistening light and give it life. Horrified, the Emperor of Evil turned away and grimaced in disgust at the benevolence, then with one swift movement pulled the weapon from the rock, clinking and sparks. Immediately the grip adjusted to his palm and the cutting edge turned dark. -


Swords of power were also forged quickly in the two states of man, but even both would have no chance against the one perfect sword.


- They were made, one from the power and magic of fire, the other from the hardness and coldness of ice. The hilt was sealed with a golden ring and everyone who wanted to use the sword with all his strength had to put the ring over his fingertips in order to create an inner bond with the weapon. -


To regain the holy weapon, the two kingdoms each sent three princes with swords to search for Muragecht and his magical blade.Their names were: Gisildur, Warior, Savamir, from the Order of the Steel Eagle and Kalikor, Isribus, Badenius, from the Order of the White Dragon.






VERSE 1: BEGINNING


Warior walked a little faster and crouched down the sparsely wooded embankment. At the edge of the slope stood a group of dark green conifers, which were bare on the lower part of the trunk and hid it from the enemy for the time being. He was a sturdy man with long, wavy, black hair, brown eyes and a stubbly three-day beard, and he wore a breastplate with a gray eagle which had spread its wings wide. On top and underneath was chain mail, steel shoulder pads and gloves, and metal boots that came down to his knees. He was dressed in a dark ranger cloak and a long, silver sword, which he carried on his broad back next to a fully packed, green rucksack. In the distance he heard the crash of weapons and the bitter cries of battle of the fighting people.The screeching and roaring of shadowy beings, servants of darkness, could almost not be overheard. The prince's face was smeared with dirt, sweaty and testified to the great lack of understanding of the raging war. A suppressed breath of fear also shimmered in him and then erupted as soon as he clenched his teeth more tightly and jumped over the little stream that flowed in the exact direction in which he wanted to go. He was just coming from his father's stone castle, which was being besieged, and was fleeing to a small, remote village in the south of the country. Behind him the stone walls towered up and were already half covered by the heavily greened branches of the tall fir trees, when Warior turned around again to make sure that nobody was following him. The sun had just set, it bathed the wooded horizon strip in red to golden light and let the shadows of the conifers standing close together on his right become a little longer.He had been told that he should just follow the small course of the river and after two hours he would arrive in the aforementioned village. The ground was covered with brown to green, prickly needles and he ran at the edge of the forest so as not to get lost or get lost between the dark fir trees. The brief moment of carelessness was enough to draw the attention of one of the enemy warriors to him and he was already drawing the bow carved from black wood. It was one of the slender gnomes, small slits in the eyes, flat noses with short nostrils and badly dented and scarred skin. On his head, which was strewn with stringy black hair, he wore a copper helmet with protruding horns, and over his chest a short but effective chain mail with leather shoulder pads. His putrid breath rattled lightly and the bowstring whirred as it was released and the blackened arrow pierced through it. It drove itself right in front of the startled prince into the roughly patterned, rough bark of a pine tree and got stuck there with a small cracking noise.Immediately the knight turned his gaze to the attacker, because he was not allowed to get any help to make everything known about his escape, so he pulled the broad sword out of its scabbard, it began to glow magically, whirled it over his head and blew up with heavy limbs up the small slope. With a wild scream he was at his opponent and hit him with all his strength, but the gnome backed away in despair, because he had not expected the aggressive action of his victim. The mighty blade chopped up a medium-sized branch on the ground, dug itself into the needle-strewn earth as if by butter, and when it struck a flat stone that was buried under the needles, there were not even sparks as it cut it apart. Warior quickly pulled the magic sword out of the underground and rushed again, now with a horizontal blow, at the creature. Again he dodged out of sheer desperation, but half of his ear was cut off, blood gaped and it was about to scream when the prince sank the point of the sword through the chain mail in the green chest.Less than three seconds later, the man broke away from the fallen enemy and, with extreme care, reinserted his weapon into its ornate case on his armored back. Immediately he sprinted on just as fast as the weight of the armor and that of the sword would allow him and soon arrived at a depression in the small river bed. The vegetation around him became more diverse and he soon found himself in a sea of ​​ferns and small plants with large leaves. Also more deciduous trees grew out of the ground than firs and instead of needles on the ground there were now oak or beech leaves. The small, silvery brook gurgled down several small waterfalls and then flowed into a blue lake, which stretched about two hundred meters down into a small valley. Dragonflies and fireflies in all colors of the rainbow circled over the water, the cries of battle could only be heard as a blurry silhouette, which seemed to drag on for almost forever, and the warrior of goodness jumped down some small, flat stones overgrown with moss and fern by the stream, for none Having to take a detour into the valley.It was already much darker than an hour ago and only a pale blue streaked state remained as the sky and slowly this also dried up until the moon shone through completely and a