There are secrets that should stay buried, things that should stay forgotten. Let the sleeping dogs lie, as they say. Just because something is old doesn't make it valuable, and just because something happens to be a relic doesn't mean it should exist. This is one of them. Some people who hold fondness in their hearts for objects of bygone days would probably argue against my choices, but I have no regrets. I know what I've done, and the world will be better off for it. Cursed items are a double-edged sword–they can both help and harm the one who uses them. But like any deal with a devil, in the end it only brings its owner to ruin. As far as I've heard, nobody has ever truly benefited from such objects. If the benefits do not outweigh the consequences, then it is useless.

There's always danger when you deal with cursed objects. Most of them have a long history behind their creation, and you never know what you're going to get. Important details about the nature and origin of the item's curse can get lost over time, which can make or break your chances for survival. They say knowledge is power–but in some cases, knowledge is the curse. The only thing you can rely on are your wits and talent in investigation. Having a few back-up plans and fail-safes in case of an emergency never hurt either. You can never be too prepared for a situation like this.

After disposing of a cursed portrait that killed every woman who laid eyes on it within three days, I heard a rumor that a collection of unsavory antique weaponry had been put up for auction. To be honest, other people's personal preferences in ancient torture devices are none of my business. But when people start selling merchandise with harmful enchantments engraved into them–that's where I draw the line. It didn't matter how much I'd have to pay for it; better for it to fall into my hands than somebody else's. Besides, most of those collectors didn't even appreciate half the things they owned as long as it wasn't cheap. The first lead was a cache of hexed blades that had infernal souls fused into them, while the weapons themselves were worn down to imitate the effects of natural aging. Those weren't hard to get rid of. But when the rumors didn't stop, the trail led me to the genuine article–a sword that I can say without a doubt was truly evil. 

It was a Highland longsword–leaf-bladed in design with a twisting serpent forming the grip. It had a fairly short guard, and a lifelike serpent's head with its jaws around a sphere formed the pommel. The metal's color was cloudy and tarnished, both sword and scabbard were in poor condition. Its name was Nathrach. The ebony wood used for the scabbard was splintering, and there was a thick cord that bound the entire sword so it could not be drawn. Right away when it was brought out on the table, the room's entire atmosphere changed. The mere presence of this sheathed sword made the most cold-blooded veins in the room shiver, and there was this sickening uneasiness that formed inside your stomach when you looked at it. There was nothing obscene about its appearance; its aura was an entirely different story.

Having travelled a great distance only to be told the one person you were looking for was not only away, but on another continent was disheartening, to say the least. The journey to Antikythera hadn’t been easy to start with, the pathways had been worn, but having sharp hooves instead of feet did have its benefits, she was able to dig in and keep her footing as she walked. But biggest obstacle for the would-be visitor had been all the lightning! With a ingrained fear of lightning climbing up the mountain to see the one she wished to see had been a nightmare. To then be told that the Steward was in Canelux, possibly somewhere in the Highlands was spirit breaking.

After explaining to one of the clergy what she was doing up there, she was happy to have been told that someone there was able to create a gate to the Highlands. They did not know exactly where the Steward was, only her general location and that she had mentioned something about ‘they must go in the fire’ on her way out. So once more on the search for the Steward, but now she was in the Highlands.

It had taken some time until the wanderer had come across the auction house and had decided to check the place out. Sadly, she had no idea what the Steward looked like, having forgot to ask such questions when she had been at Antikythera, but this seemed as a good place to look. However, when she walked inside things seemed to be underway, so she stayed in the back out of the way, using her height advantage to look around. No one stood out that might be the Steward, all she had to go on was that the Steward human looking woman. Which wasn’t a lot of detail.

She had managed to slip inside without much notice as people were focused on the auction going on. However a male backed up not knowing she was behind him and bumped into her. ”Oh, dear me, I am sor…” He stopped midsentence as he turned during his apology only to be eye level to her chest, purple skin and well toned stomach. He managed to pry his eyes away from her chest a moment later and looked up at her face, only to have a pair of pupil-less teal eyes looking back at him, brown hair down to her shoulders, done up to go around the two foot long horns sticking out of her skull.

She smiled at him, though, and it was a pretty and friendly smile. ”It’s ok, you didn’t know I was here.” She shifted her weight on her long legs and the ‘clop’ noise made him look down at the sharp hooves she had instead of feet, and the three foot tail she had wrapped around her leg so it wouldn’t get in the way.

”Uh, oh, all the same, I am sorry I bumped into you.” He managed after collecting himself, a blush coming to his face as he turned back to the auction.

~Silly humans, why do the males act so awkward around me like that?~ She thought to herself with a mental shrug, she’d figure it out some time, when she was more interested. For now her attention went back to the auction, and it was around now that she was starting to feel an odd and somewhat sinister air in the room that was slowly creeping into her mind. What was actually going on here.

Alythea wasn’t sure where her travels had led her. She found this land as confusing as it’s people. She had met a few that she would call friend, but in all, humanity was bizarre. As for the land they lived in, this Revaliir, she didn’t despise but severely misunderstood. What was the point of moving cities? Auctions, a sort of gathering to see who had more money confused her. Most certainly, the most confusing, and what she highly destested of her new home were the deities they worshipped. Back in Alythea’s home, the Alythean forest, gods were poetic, they were forces that couldn’t be described. Such as the sun’s light, or even her forest could’ve been revered as godly. Here? Their deities were blithering sacks of flesh with world altering mood swings. She certainly had very little respect for gods of this world. She saw them as fickle in emotion and silly as how easily influenced by their elements. The “gods” of this world would’ve been eaten and spit out in her home forest.

It only made her miss her home more, the more she thought of it. How she missed running through the forest, grazing with her herd in prairies. She could almost hear the hoofbeats amongst the ground. No. She was hearing hoofbeats. Her ears darted towards the sound clopping and sure enough a tall, intimidating woman was amongst the crowd. What would’ve made her cower into a corner only intrigued her. She made her way to the mysterious woman, interrupting the conversation she was having by bending down and observing her hoofs. Oh, how she missed her hoofs! The human feet were so fragile and needy. Shoes this, and if they got the tiniest bit wet, they were soggy and sore. She ran a porcelain hand through her hair, pushing it to the side as she observed the being’s tail. Oh, her tail! She grabbed the tail, lifting it up and admiring the beautiful flowing strands of hair. How nostalgic this was, she thought.

Alythea would’ve been contempt in just admiring the being, reminiscing on better days, when she felt a dark pressure. There was a familiar sense of dread and fear. As she turned to see what was being auctioned she froze with desperation. For a short moment, she stood still, a look of horror on her face. Suddenly, her face contorted in anger, remembering her herd’s pride. She called into the crowd with an assertive voice. “I want it!” She called out. She was immediately met with sneers and looks, but she reinforced her statement. “I place my bid.” She said, with a nod, repeating what she had heard. She wasn’t sure how she was going to pay for it, she had no money, so she could not outbid the humans. And she certainly couldn’t steal it from somebody without killing them if didn’t fall for her bluff with a knife.

But she must have this sword. Anger pooled inside her as she thought of the injustice that was caused by this sword on her herd. Whether it would lead her to the hunter who carried it or not, she would destroy this sword, rid it from existence. It had no place in this world, and Alythea would see it destroyed, by any costs. But she must first obtain it.

The man who was running the auction replied: "How much?" The bidding had just begun, and all eyes were on her. The slim woman gave her answer: "–Three hundred!" Murmurs ran through the crowd. "Looks like we're gonna be here all day…" One of the prospective buyers grumbled. The battle had finally started. Seconds after, a sea captain shouted: "Four hundred!" The disguised deity was quick to interject–raising that by double. "Eight hundred!" The chilling atmosphere dispersed as the room worked itself into a frenzy.



Slamming her hands on a table, Shiloh cut the man off as she shouted above the din. "TEN THOUSAND!" A hush fell over the commotion as half a dozen faces stared, mouths agape and gawking. The auctioneer repeated her bid. "The sword for ten thousand! Going once! Going twice!" He pounded his gavel on the small wooden podium and pointed in her direction. "Sold–to the black-masked traveler for ten thousand silver crescents! We will now begin the bidding for our next item, the bloodthirsty halberd known as 'Tarantello'." It was by pure luck and a hefty amount of silver that she was able to force her way into gaining the highest bid. The shock factor and sudden steep increase in the bid was intended to throw the other bidders off before they could react. After all, nobody in their right mind would have ten thousand silver on their person at any given moment. She was led into a back room where the exchange was made, and she was given the tattered, insidious weapon. Even with the scabbard in place, just holding it made her want to dry heave. She stashed the weapon away quickly and was prepared to make a hasty exit before she bumped into a face she didn't see in the beginning of the auction. An incredibly tall woman, with purple skin and solid eyes without pupils. Her other features seemed goat-like. 

"Sorry." She gave a short apology as she tried to hurry her way out. As she didn't disguise her voice today, Keilmere would be able to notice that this cloaked and masked individual was a woman. Shiloh's mind was focused on getting to a secluded area out of sight where she could open a portal back to Antikythera. From there, she could start her research on how to turn this sword into useless dust. There was another reason why she needed to leave; right after obtaining the sword, she could feel her senses and coordination were starting to be affected.

As the purple skinned woman made small chat with the human male for a moment they were interrupted when another young woman came over. She didn’t say anything just interjected herself between the two conversing parties and bent down and seemed to inspect Keilmere’s hooves. ”Um, can I help you?” Keilemere asked, confused before blinking. ”Ah, hey no, it’s rather rude to just grab someone’s tail.” Keilmere grumbled as the young lady fondled her three foot tail, whip like in how thin it was compared to what someone might think looking at the rest of Keilmere.

But the unknown young lady was quickly distracted by what was being auctioned off and turned her attention to that instead, calling out that she was placing a bid. Keilmere watched as she scanned the room to see if the one she was looking for was here, it was then when the hand was slammed on the table and a woman shouted out her bid. That weapon, Keilmere didn’t like it, she didn’t like the feeling she was picking up from it.

The masked woman who had won the auction quickly paid and collected the weapon before making her way out. Yet again Keilmere found herself being bumped into, now by this woman, judging by the voice, as she made her way out. ”It’s ok.” Keilmere replied, but her focus was on the sword, she could feel the wicked magic hanging from it like grease or oil. ~I hope she knows what she has there… wait!~ Keilmere turned and followed the masked woman out. She remembered that the Steward’s people had told her that the Steward had said something about putting things into the fire. Could they have been talking about the cursed weapons like the sword the woman had bought?

”Hey, excuse me!” Keilmere called, her long legs giving her a decent running speed if she needed to catch up to the woman. If she was out of sight Keilmere could follow the foul ‘stench’ that the sword was giving off. When and if she managed to catch up to the woman Keilmere would keep a respectful distance as she spoke. ”I don’t mean to try and take that weapon from you, miss, I just wanted to make sure that knew what you were buying? I can sense a wickedness from that sword, it’s a stench in the air, please do be careful with it.” Teal eyes narrowed as she looked the woman over, cloak and mask aside, she was similar to the description that those at Antikythera had told her about, so, Keilmere decided to take a chance. ”If you want, someone at Antikythera might be able to help remove the evil from that sword?”

The sound of gavel echoed throughout the room and Alythea cursed through clenched teeth. She must not let the sword fall into another’s hands. She wouldn’t allow the sword to claim more lives, or go without being punished for the ones it already took. She was familiar with the sinister aura, following it’s stench through the heavy crowds and out into the streets where her hoofed friend from earlier was pleading with the masked stranger how had bid highest for the sword. She seethed with anger, stalking quietly around the two, sticking to the shadows as she circled behind the masked stranger and raised her hand.

“Stranger, I am sorry you bid so high to receive nothing. But that sword is leaving with me and no other. Do not make me use force.” She said severely. She was bluffing entirely however. She had no qualms with hurting, or killing, the stranger if she refused to give up the sword. It would eventually turn the stranger into a corpse, Alythea would just be speeding up the process. However, she refused to harm innocents, and any spell of hers would have catastrophic consequences in such a densely populated area. There was no hesitation in her voice however, as she took a large step closer to the stranger who won the sword.

“You are no fool, I know this.” She said, warmly, “The sword had no right to be auctioned. It belongs to me and those who have been affected by its dark aura.” Her eyes furrowed in anger, thinking of the injustices it had caused. “Do not resist me, I beg of you. Do not kill your self over a sword that has no right to be in this world.” She said, gravely.

The hoof-footed stranger's face wasn't lying, that much she could tell. Otherwise, Shiloh would have been more on guard when the purple-skinned woman stopped her. "It's fine. I won't keep it for long. I'll make sure it's properly taken care of once I'm done with it." They were then interrupted by the arrival of another less familiar face–this time the woman who started with the first bid. Now this one was easy to read. Her intentions were written all over her face. The rogue's fingers tightened around the sheathed sword as she sensed a strong magical presence. Even with the curse of the sword bogging down her senses, she could feel it within a short distance. Throwing a quick glance to the tall purple-skinned stranger, the deity sent her a telepathic message: 'See you on the other side.' Since she mentioned Antikythera, the deity assumed she would figure out what she meant very soon. As for the pale-haired woman, Shiloh wasn't buying any of what she was saying. Right now the risk of being robbed was incredibly high, and this woman was one of the few people who knew how much she had paid for it. The first rule of preventing potential robbery or fraud was to disengage and quickly remove yourself from the situation.

She wasn't going to give the woman any time to swipe the sword from her. "You can have it all right…over my dead body." In the next moment, a portal opened behind Shiloh leading straight to Antikythera. She quickly backed up into it, and the portal lingered a few moments longer before it began to close. Should the other two give chase, they would find themselves out of the Highlands and inside the interior of the Marble Corridor. While it was as bright as day, there were no windows or visible light sources. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of the same white stone. Once the portal finally closed, there was no turning back.