The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

The desperate Lizakh agreed immediately, sobbing in praises and thanks for the Patron of the Sun. The current Randidly accepted these misplaced prayers without comment; what Randidly needed right now truly was concrete details of Claudette’s image through which he could funnel his emotional energy.

The red gauntlet was all his fire, all his fury and force he would spend to drag down Commandant Wick. But as powerful as that emotional energy could be, his current task was to create a weapon of frost and desolation. All that power couldn’t be easily incorporated into Claudette’s image, at least not directly.

D’min serves admirably for the red gauntlet. His desperation makes the resonance between them high. As for the black gauntlet… Randidly scrutinized the cracked gemstone in the middle of Clarent’s hilt for several seconds. Then he shook himself. That can wait.

Just like his cold determination to kill Wick could wait, as long as it needed to.

D’min gasped as hot wrath and indignation seethed through his veins. His eyes widened and energy rushed to his hands, holding the taint of Clarent at bay for now. The option presented to him by Randidly was simple; if he truly wished to save his planet, he would need to master the desolate sword Clarent. Either by absorbing the destructive energies into himself or by turning them on another target.

Randidly would simply provide the energy to make the options feasible. The decision belonged to D’min alone.

Randidly’s manifestation shook itself. We are getting beyond the point where I can do all the work for you, Claudette. These last few steps need to be yours.

While the image aspect attempted to grapple with all the emotional power that filled him and continued to rattle Neveah’s Engraving, Randidly sank into his body and utilized his perception to truly look at Clarent. And using the ambient waves of red fury that radiated outward, he began to fine-tune the details of the blade.

The lusterless black gem was the centerpiece of Clarent, marred by a jagged lightning bolt crack down the middle. But Randidly avoided that area for now. Instead, he adjusted the terrifying woven tentacles of the hilt. They came together in a tight mesh that both supported and restricted the central jewel.

The red energy undulated up the blade from the hilt, adding a slight wave to the edge as it sharpened it. That fury concentrated at the sharp tip, adding the scent of death all along the crystal's edge. In addition, some of the ambient energy seeped into the sealed area within the sword, steadily transforming into the emotions of the trapped life essence of the Skykings. Two released murky emotions in response, but the third Skyking pulsed regularly with bursts of pure light.

That clear essence rapidly gobbled up the ambient red energy, turning it into a rainbow sunburst that attempted to reach down toward the sundered gem. The radiance somehow managed to refract Randidly’s rage over Helen’s death into dozens of subtle emotions; Randidly felt a grim satisfaction as he watched the pieces begin to shift. The rumblings through the image refining Engraving continued to intensify.

However, ultimately the fulcrum of this gauntlet would be D’min. So he shifted his attention back to the target.

The layers of the world flickered. They arrived in a fork between two possible futures. Just like Randidly borrowed the senses of D’min, he granted the lizard man a vision of the possibilities laid before him. His two orbs sank into the lizardman’s skull; one of D’min’s eyes glowed emerald, the other black.

In one future, perhaps the easier future, all that remained in this place would be a black skeleton with a sword driven through its chest. The process was slow and the Lizakh would struggle for generations, but gradually the world would recover. With the force of crimson fury empowering him, D’min would be able to fight Clarent to a draw for all eternity.

Randidly turned to the sundered gem. There wasn’t even a flicker in response to that projection. The black gauntlet, flowing with liquid hate, twisted in sneering disappointment. So Randidly looked toward the other future.

In that version, D’min managed to wield Clarent; the violent emotions acted as a medium of mastery. He ascended to an even more vaunted status amongst his people as he gradually turned the vicious force of the weapon outward. He learned to control Clarent to accomplish impossible tasks.

However, the damage had already done; their world was hollowed. Due to D’min ingenuity and the blade’s fell power, the Lizakh embarked on interstellar travel, heading to a distant world to plunder the resources that had been consumed by the sword when it was running wild.

They fled across the stars like refugees, searching for resources. The first few months were the worst. They found innumerable empty rocks before they found the barest hint of life. Thousands starved. But then D’min grew to understand the hunger of the sword for life, which could lead them right to what they needed.

At first, it was simple, but then the Lizakh encountered intelligent life-

D’min shifted uneasily as he gazed toward the future. Randidly pulled energy in from the surroundings and continued to sketch out a meaningful projection. His streamlined mind operated at peak performance to rapidly assemble and render the future he needed D’min to see.

Congratulations! Your Skill the Wandering Deity Demands (T) has grown to Level 400!

Congratulations! Your Skill the Grey Creature Glimpses Providence (P) has grown to Level 399!

The red energy rushed forward, paving a red road through the universe for the Clarent wielding D’min. His hands began to tremble as the visions became more graphic. They encountered a native population of crow humanoids that refused to give up their natural bounty, even though there was plenty to share. Although the Lizakh had stabilized, this was the only nearby planet filled with life. The memory of the mass starvation was fresh in their mind.

And as D’min stewed in his tent at night, pondering the plight of his people-

A low moan escaped from D’min’s mouth. Randidly felt some sympathy for the man but didn’t let it show. The lizardman’s body was having difficulty hosting both Randidly and the force from the red gauntlet. This couldn’t continue for much longer.

After inspecting the cracked jewel of Clarent, Randidly whispered into D’min’s mind. “Your people walk along the edge of the blade you wield. If you are unwilling to grip the weapon, then its power will only hurt you, lead you beyond the limits of your endurance.”

Randidly raised the gauntlet of rage. The D’min in the vision was slowed dyed red. Due to Randidly’s guidance, the image of the starving Lizakh juveniles would not leave his mind. D’min stood and drew Clarent. Black desolate danced along the blade. The torches inside and outside the tent dimmed and died, steadily snuffed out.

Then he walked outside the tent and made one last request of the crow humanoids, which was ignored. With no other choice, D’min wielded the desolate energies of the blade to take what the Lizakh needed. Whole swathes of land were devastated, wracked by freezing storms and vicious winds.

Those of the crow people that were caught in the disaster areas did not survive. Their lives and light were taken into the blade of Clarent without any recognition from D’min.

The smallest whine came out of Clarent’s jewel. Randidly cracked the knuckles of his gauntlet of hate. Its fingers stretched, ready to act when the time was right.

Once he started down this path, it became easier and easier for D’min. Violence became a convenient tool. The tension steadily bled from his shoulders and left him only with purpose. He fought and took so that his people might prosper. They had been cursed and now they found the ability to rectify the situation. When he encountered backward and superstitious peoples, he did them a favor by spreading the culture of the Lizakh amongst them. Even if some didn’t appreciate his efforts, what D’min did was for the best.

A rattle came from Clarent. D’min, lost in the vision on that black moor, didn’t even notice.

Congratulations! Your Skill Revelations of the Atramentous Threshold (T) has grown to Level 406!

Randidly felt himself straining to maintain the emotional load, but pictured Helen’s corpse to squeeze blood out of his exhausted heart. Soon, black and red energies seeped out of him. Even if it was at a slower pace than previously, he could still reinforce the glove of fury, which was beginning to dim as it sustained the branching future he gave D’min.

The gauntlet of hate absorbed the black energy without comment. Randidly steadied himself and continued to paint the future. The layers wove themselves together.

Soon, the Lizakh empire had spread throughout the surrounding planets. Using some special treasures that he discovered in his travels, D’min lengthened his life and continued to serve as the hero of the Lizakh. But one day, he received a missive. The council had decided that it was time to name and train a new successor. They wished for D’min to return to their new home planet and surrender Clarent.

The rattling from the blade intensified, but the real D’min didn’t even notice; he was completely lost in the vision. The black gauntlet eased its fingers open.

In fact, the planet to which he was supposed to return was a planet that D’min had pioneered. And now, they dared to call him back to demand he give up everything? After all the time and effort he had poured into saving his people? They somehow came to the conclusion that he needed to retire?

The blade Clarent hummed. D’min’s hands were cracking and bleeding beneath the waves of conflicted force; his body was nearing its breaking point. Randidly rubbed the forefinger and thumb of the gauntlet of hate together and created a single drop of blackness that he planted in the future D’min’s heart.

The Lizakh’s expression was heavy as he stared down at the imagined Clarent. He knew that he would not go back peacefully. Even if he needed to teach the council a lesson-

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!

All at once, Clarent could withstand it no longer. The sleeping gem at the core of the desolate sword awoke. A blast of freezing cold swept outward and flash froze D’min; he died instantly, still picturing himself slowly turning into a tyrant. A part of Randidly’s heart squeezed at the cruel sort of death, but he had finally achieved the result he wanted.

Light flickered from Clarent’s jewel and he heard Claudette’s voice. “I get it. I get what you are saying. As long as this is the way I see myself, its only a matter of time before I become a tool for someone. I need to not just be the blade, but the hand that wields it.”

Randidly was silent, although he was pleased that he had reached her again. The red gauntlet flickered and faded, completely spent to push D’min along that journey. Instead, the black gauntlet of hatred floated forward. Tears of pure hatred rolled off of the thick fingers and dripped into the lightning bolt crack that split Clarent’s jewel.

“But there is a reason that I am the tool, Randidly.” Claudette’s voice fell to a whisper. “I’m weak. I’m not strong enough to control this power-”

Isn’t the power yours? Randidly drew deeply from his three images. He felt the aura he manifested outside of the Engraving grow, but he believed it should be fine. Because even honed to an efficient point, the amount of emotional detail howling through him was almost beyond what he could manage. His Nether Core barely managed to stabilize him.

Claudette remained silent. So he gestured mentally, mobilizing the energy he had gathered. A ripple spread through the dying image world. But Randidly’s gesture couldn’t wound this place; his work up until this point had steadily deepened the foundation and history here. His formless mental pressure might shatter the Engraving that expanded it for convenience, but the image could withstand it.

Congratulations! Your Skill Conviction of the Celestial Cataclysm (T) has grown to Level 516!

“No matter what we do, it can’t compare to the accumulation my father has gathered,” Claudette whispered. She stank of fear.

Randidly almost wanted to chuckle. He imagined that the drops of hatred that soaked into the jewel’s cracks were sweet. Do you want it? Do you want this power to be yours?

Fear made hatred patient. Fear made hatred smart.

The spirit guide reappeared, all wooden expressions and stiff limbs. She looked down at Clarent’s blade for several seconds and then, joint by joint, delicately moved to take the weapon from D’min’s dead grasp. When she held the sword of herself, the black tentacles of the hilt wiggled gleefully. The lights within the blade pulsed.

“I don’t want to be used,” Claudette said. Her eyes reflected that bright central light within the blade. The connection was so potent that even in his current focus, Randidly was briefly swayed. He couldn’t help but wonder what the real inspiration for those sealed lights was, that it could seize her attention like this.

The black gauntlet of hatred reached down and tightened around the jewel. More and more concentrated emotions seeped into the blade through the wound in Claudette’s heart. Randidly could feel the pulse of Claudette, a distant beat that tried to hide within the dead jewel. But steadily, that pulse was gaining intensity. The pulse of light from the blade, especially the radiant one that had willingly given his life, soon synced up with it.

Then what do you want? Randidly asked.

There was a long moment of silence as the puppet looked down at the weapon. Even through the strange restrictions of the Visage of Obsession, he understood he wasn’t giving her any choice. She either accepted the flood of chilling hatred that Randidly had prepared or most of the effort he had poured into the refining would be wasted.

But despite those dangers, the light within Clarent’s jewels stirred. It began to absorb the drops of hatred that Randidly fed to it. Steadily, the jewel knit itself back together.

Randidly felt his mind grow fuzzy. Not with a forced break, but with completion. He drifted softly down through the mists of the Visage of Obsession… and then touched the ground.

An enormous rumble ripped through Neveah’s Engraving as the forces of Claudette’s image began to churn in a new pattern. And Randidly shivered, gripped by a horrifying cold that he could suddenly feel.

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