Perhaps hours or days later, I am still stuck in this tomb. However, I have made some interesting progress through my memory search.
I'll go through want I learned in order.
Firstly that idiot who froze his hand is not my original owner. Apparently, he was just one of the many that I was passed down to.
From my memory, it seems that I have had multiple hands wield me. From generals to warlords, from mages and arch-mages, and even by assassins a couple of times.
The only thing similar about them was their faces were hazy and hard to remember.
I don't know if it was an effect of destroying the runes on that snowflake imprisoning me, or I had just forgotten my former masters. There could be another reason but I won't dwell further on that subject, at least not at the current moment.
Right now, I believe it to be imperative that I tell what I learned!
For instance, I learned I have many abilities regarding ice, like my icicles and my frost beam. Well, it technically is an ice beam however most of my masters called it a frost beam so I'll call it that for simplicity's sake.
I learned that I could make a cloud and force it to drop hail, spawn spikes from the ground or walls if it was covered by ice, could near-instantly freeze any body of water, and much, much more.
However, now all of the knowledge I gathered from my memories was ice-based.
I also studied the fighting styles of all those who had wielded me.
While their faces were hard to witness, thankfully their bodies were clear as day!
But continuing on the I learned the many different fighting styles of my former masters. For these movements would be important to my survival once I will leave this accursed tomb and acquire a useful body to use these skills!
Speaking of the tomb, it has gotten a lot colder. The entire room now had a thin layer of ice all around from my training with my ice abilities.
All except the blue stone that my other half was embedded in.
Perhaps the stone is magical? Or maybe someone enchanted it?
These questions, while important, are not worthy of my attention yet.
No, now that I have learned at least the basics of my former self, all I need is one more thing. A functioning body.
After all, what is a weapon without a hand to use it?
If I was going to see the world, I couldn't or I can't just walk out of here and just act like everything is normal.
Nor could I control my ice to look vaguely human-like to walk around as that would bring up more attention.
Also speaking of barely human-like ice, I did try that to see if I could pull myself out. However, my body seems not able to move from this stone. Perhaps the creator of my tomb prepared for something like this to happen.
Well since I have nothing to do until the next fool pulls me out of this putrid stone, I do have one interesting topic that regards my creation.
While memory searching, I was able to remember a time when a hammer was hitting upon my blade.
Not the hammer of a warrior or anything of the sort. No, it was the hammer of a blacksmith!
Although he was hitting against me very hard, I felt no pain nor a sense of hatred toward the man. In fact, this man in my memories was very peculiar.
Out of all the memories I have, of all the blurred faces I have seen, he was the only face that was clear. He was an older gentleman, with thinning white hair and a short scraggly white beard. His face showed the common signs of old age, yet the look in his eyes showed determination and ferocity!
He silently forged me, the only sound that filled the room was metal against metal.
Then after a couple of minutes or so in the memory, the old man put away his hammer and inspected my blade.
He gave it a few light taps on it, to check what for, I do not know. He then lightly tap me against the stone of the walls, where I then left a small patch of ice when I connected with the wall.
Then in a tired yet victorious tone, the old man said aloud...
"It is finished." And the memory ends.
I assumed the old man to be my creator, but to why I could see his face remains a mystery to me.
Mysteries upon mysteries now seem to take up my time in this tomb. I thought to myself in an annoyed and exasperated tone, 'Why was I entrapped here, who is that old man, why can I remember everything but faces, why is the old man exception, who am I, and when will I leave this blasted tomb?!'
The thoughts were non-stop as now I have done all I could do.
With my memories thoroughly explored and anything useful to me already learned. There was nothing left but my own thoughts.
'How long have I been here?' I thought to myself. 'When will someone come down here? What did I do to be entombed?'
These were the thoughts I had for... well who knows how long. With no way to tell the time, how long could I have been here for?
'If I were to go insane after finally freeing myself for who knows how long! I'l-' My train of thought ended when I began to hear footsteps. Multiple footsteps, and they were all coming from the staircase.
The eyeball of ice that was a part of my cross guard gave a look and feeling of sinister joy. As now, my freedom comes directly to me.
However, it will be a shame for the poor soul who will free me. Since they will feel the same sense of imprisonment that I held for oh so long.