//------------------------------// // Living to Unliving and Back Again (Moonstone part 1) // Story: The Bar at the Edge of Nowhere // by Syric Philharmonica //------------------------------// Of all the Tales and Myths that surround figures and Legends long dead most, if not all, of them focus not on the Weapons that helped elevate said figures to their Legendary status. It matters not if said weapons are found or left to rust and rot away in a dark tomb somewhere, what matters is they are also remembered. There is no greater plight for one than to go unused, For biting steel craves to clash with another, to feel the very air part before it's might. All of this pomp and circumstance to say that in this magical land, if a weapon is revered, or feared, enough to be remembered for eons.... There is a very high chance that it has come to life. It began with a spark. A small ignition in an endless expanse of darkness, not that it was anywhere near aware enough to notice. A spark that had lit from the awe and reverence whispered about It, the power in language, in Words, breathing life into It. As more and more learned of It's wielder and by extension Itself, that spark grew and grew, becoming a light in that void. And once that light was large enough, The first thought was born. It started as a sudden awareness, the limited ability to perceive It's surroundings in a way only It could. It could perceive movement, a sensation of a unknown source holding It, It could sense a connection to... Something. It could sense that Something was important, as important as It was. And under that limited sense to perceive It's surroundings... It thought. '..?' Although It's first thought amounted to nothing more than a vague, barely living haze, It was still a thought. It was still alive. After a time had passed, It had evolved more, It now could understand that it could understand. It understood that It could perceive. But It was not yet able to understand Itself or Something, But as the Magik fueling It's existence weaved tighter, became more solid, It could feel the growth. It could feel Itself being able to sense more. And deep inside that bright light something new was coming to life. "Excuse me, Ser," '! ..? ...' It threw It's senses around to find the new sensation that had appeared before It. It had never encountered This before! It was... What was It? It drew It's senses inward, This going ignored as It attempted to understand. At this point It had evolved enough to question, and now It turned those questions to Itself. What was It? It knew It was not a Sense, It used those to Perceive. It was not Something, Something kept It close at all times, and It was still attempting to understand why Something was Important. As It turned all of It's senses and thought inward, It found something new. It had Perceived Something making contact with other Somethings, and what made those Somethings different from It's Something? As It tried to understand This made a reappearance to It. "...No, thee must useth it as an extension of thyself! When thou art in combat that 'stick' as thee calleth it is the only thing that wilt keepeth thee alive Soldier! Ser Shield, please showeth these recruits..." As This disappeared from It's senses again It felt a unknown urging connected to This' second appearance. It could sense that This was vital to It being able to Understand more, so It readied It's senses and waited for This to come back, Senses primed to have more to Question and Understand. This had made many more appearances to It, and It had come to Understand This as a new Sense, one that allowed It to Perceive Something's world and Understand new, different things. Once It had Understood, This never disappeared again, becoming one with It. It had also Learned that Something used a Sense of Something's own to make other Somethings Perceive Something. It was using all It could to Understand what Sense Something was using so It could attempt to create and use that Sense Itself. But It had trouble Understanding what Sense Something was using and in It's intense focus It failed to notice the Magik that made up the core of It's existence beginning to curl and change once again, giving It more Power and a new Sense. It had been deep in attempting to Understand when That first flash appeared, startling It and causing It to cast out Perceive and This, now alert and ready to Understand once That made a reappearance. It did not have to wait very long however, and the suddenness of That threw It off for a moment before It recalled It's first experience with This. It, still alert but welcoming now, did not want to disrupt this gift of a new Sense and gladly allowed That to become a part of It. The flashes That had been giving to It grew longer and longer until they never went away, and before It could begin to attempt to Understand That, It was overwhelmed by the seemingly infinite amount of information That was supplying It with, Everywhere It could Perceive with That was awash with So much New, Too much, TOO MUCH! It began to thrash, trying desperately to stop That's influx of New. It could feel Itself struggling, unable to Understand, This and Perceive falling away as That's New became Agony. '! ... !-!! !!!!! ......' It could not know how long it had been numb in the clutches of Agony, but eventually Agony died down enough for It to regain Perceive, This, and That. It could not Understand how Something could stand Agony, for It Understood that Agony was Something's world, or at least a part of it. Yet It was not eager to experience Agony again, and as such It recalled the Question It had been trying to Understand before That came bearing Agony. What was It? And now that It examined the Question again, it was all It could focus on. Partly to distract from the lingering of Agony and partly because of something This had supplied It with that It could not help but focus on. "... An extension of thyself!.." "... It giveth me a sense of self..." "... I would not knoweth myself..." '... Self?'