Entering the smithy, Oren looked to one of his you women who he paid to clean the shop once a week and told her gently but firmly. "Fetch us a healer, just in case."
Alarmed, the teenage girl took off her apron and rushed out the door. The best three master smiths in Sungrove and they felt they might need a healer? What were they going to create?
Returning to the forge area they found Von lying on the floor, his arm curled under his head as a pillow. Oren bent over and examined him closely before using his own aura to probe the boy. He could feel a stirring of different affinities, but none of them were as strong as he thought they should be.
Grimdon and Vorolen waited until he finished his initial diagnosis. Voloren started to speak but Oren simply moved his head from side to side indicating the boy was still not back to health. They stared at him lying there while they waited for the healer.
After a few moments, Vorolen walked back to the sword which seemed to pulse slightly with whatever green magic it contained. She inspected the runes etched into it by the boy's sheer force of will and still only seeing the name Marshfang, decided to attempt to use the strange weapon.
As Vorolen reached for Marshfang, a sudden surge of energy pulsed through the sword, causing her to recoil instinctively. The blade seemed to vibrate with an otherworldly power while the green magics within it turned darker as she moved closer, as if it were alive with a will of its own.
Grimdon and Oren watched with bated breath as Vorolen cautiously extended her hand once more, her fingers hovering just inches from the hilt. With a deep breath, she made contact with the weapon, her aura intertwining with its mystical energies.
At first, nothing happened. The sword remained inert, its surface shimmering faintly under the dim light of the forge. But then, slowly but surely, the shimmering intensified, and a soft hum filled the air as the sword responded to Vorolen's touch.
Grimdon and Oren exchanged surprised glances as they witnessed the odd reaction from the sword. Perhaps it needed to be used in battle to understand its purpose? Without realizing they were holding their breath, the watched to see what would happen next.
With a sense of awe and reverence, Vorolen began to channel her own aura into Marshfang, her efforts guided by centuries of understanding the creation of items and the inner workings of most weapons. As she did so, the sword began to emit a soft, pulsating glow. She instantly felt it absorbing her essence drawing more than she had used to try to activate it. Trying to release the sword, its essence drawing magic awakened with newfound vigor.
With each surge of energy, Vorolen could feel Marshfang drawing upon her essence, absorbing it with an insatiable hunger. The sword pulsed with raw magical energy, crackling with power as it pulled her aura and very life into its form.
As the glow reached its peak, Vorolen used the magic of stone to create a barrier between her and the grip finally releasing her hold on the vampiric sword, her breath caught in her throat as she watched with a mixture of awe and trepidation. The forge was filled with a palpable sense of anticipation, as if the very air itself held its breath in anticipation of what was to come.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the pulsating glow began to fade, leaving behind a faint residue of lingering magic. Vorolen withdrew from the sword as quickly as her short legs would move, her heart was pounding with exhilaration at the sheer power she had witnessed. It had tried to drain her.
Grimdon and Oren exchanged looks of astonishment, their minds racing with the implications of what they had just witnessed. It was clear that Marshfang held within it a power unlike anything they had ever encountered before, a power that could reshape the very fabric of reality itself. They were aware that some ancient swamp dragons would get stronger as they killed their prey, and pondered if this sword's beast heart came from such a dragon.
As they stood in the dimly lit forge, bathed in the fading glow of Marshfang's magic, a sense of unease settled over the trio. The revelation that the sword possessed a vampiric nature, feeding on the essence of those who wielded it, sent shivers down their spines.
Grimdon and Oren exchanged somber looks, their thoughts darkening with the realization of the dangers posed by Marshfang. It was no ordinary weapon; it was a creature of darkness, thirsting for the life force of its wielder. The implications of such a weapon were dire indeed, for in the wrong hands, it could unleash untold havoc upon the world.
With a heavy heart, the dwarven woman turned to Oren, her expression grave. "We must exercise caution with this sword," she said solemnly. "It possesses a strange power which I personally have difficulty understanding. Being that it was created from two strong beast hearts, we must tread carefully until we know what we are dealing with to prevent mishaps beyond our control."
Oren nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting the gravity of their situation. "Agreed," he replied, his voice tinged with concern. "We must ensure that Marshfang does not fall create havoc. It could be a mess if it were to find itself in the wrong hands. Just its vampiric nature makes it a danger to all who come into contact with it."
Oren moved to cover it with silk to help neutralize its power, yet after three sheets of silk, the magic could still be felt within the forge and the sickly green glow continued to permeate the fabric.
Grimdon's eyes grew wide as he realized the sword's glow was getting stronger and its aura of magic more noticeable as Oren layered on the silk. "Wait, Oren. Take a few of those off of it. The more you cover it, the more it seems to glow."
The elf took all but one silk sheet from the sword and the glow did seem to diminish as if it were combatting being covered. As he started across the forge, the sword flashed brightly and each of the three felt as if something had pierced their body. Each felt a bout of weakness overtake them as though they had just performed the naming of several items back-to-back.
Looking at one another, they saw the look on the other's face and knew it happened to all of them. It was at this moment Von woke looking and feeling slightly less pale as a result of his nap.
Oren shouted as Von started to stand. "Get down, Von! The sword is vampiric! Stay out of its aura!"
Startled by Oren's urgent warning, Von quickly obeyed, dropping back to the ground and crawling away from Marshfang's ominous presence. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched with wide eyes, realizing the gravity of the situation.
The air in the forge seemed to thicken with tension as the trio exchanged worried glances, their minds racing with thoughts of how to contain the dangerous sword. Marshfang's vampiric nature posed a threat not only to them but to anyone who crossed its path.
With a deep breath, Oren took charge, his voice firm and resolute. "We must find a way to neutralize the sword's aura," he declared, his eyes narrowed in determination. "We cannot allow it to exert its influence over us any longer."
As they contemplated their next course of action, the sound of footsteps echoed through the forge, heralding the return of the cleaning woman and the arrival of the requested healer. Before they could warn the two newcomers, the women had already entered the forge.
Seeing Von crawling on the floor, the gnomish woman in white ran to stand beside him and getting his with the aura of the sword. Weakness overtook her legs, but she managed to stand firm as she attempted to help the boy from the floor.
"It's the sword. Get away from it," shouted Grimdon. As he said it, another pulse took place causing the healer and the blonde-haired teen to stumble while weakening the three smiths further. Von, being barely above the floor, was lucky to have been missed by green pulse which emanated from the blade.
The healer, taken aback by Grimdon's warning, quickly withdrew from the sword's vicinity, her weakened hands trembling slightly from the shock of the encounter. With a worried glance at Von, she began to assess his condition, checking for any signs of injury or lingering effects from his exposure to Marshfang's aura.
Meanwhile, the cleaning woman stood by, her eyes wide with fear as she watched the events unfold. She had never seen anything like this before, and the sight of the sword pulsating with the dark green energy sent shivers down her spine.
Grimdon and Vorolen exchanged concerned looks, realizing the extent of the danger posed by Marshfang. It was clear they needed to act fast to contain its power before anyone else fell victim to its vampiric influence.
Oren pushed the girl from the forge and told her, "Maggie, notify the academy. Have them send help. Tell them a sword has gotten out of hand."