"DoomShear."
“Do you know how came DoomShear?” The ghost asked through a choking mire of loose throat tissue. The specter had been given flesh through the curse - and spoke as a man would - its words were long preserved with the antique spells that had been carved into its exposed chest.
Garl shook his head.
The wizard continued - parts of his body flickered in and out of reality - half specter and half rotting corpse - his damnation was to exist as a wedge between life and death. The only abomination that would know the true words behind the evil sword. “I cannot speak adequately of the horror that came with its arrival here - there are no words to describe the grand scape of mutilation that took place over the world. The day DoomShear fell from the sky, every living thing bled into the dirt, creating what we know of disease and misery. So many bleak things of which we knew not... Even this.” He pointed at himself. “Curses that shake free from the bindings of the oaths of men and clench tightly on even after death. DoomShear created these things, the black steel sword that the God of Darkness used to strike against the mantle of the galaxy seven times. It was his sinister intent, forged solid and sharp in the fires which raged about it as it burned down from above.”
“How is it that I wield the weapon and still live?”
“That...” The hybrid cadaver shifted, holding his bony hand up to Tundra's chest. “I do not know.”
Garl shook his head.
The wizard continued - parts of his body flickered in and out of reality - half specter and half rotting corpse - his damnation was to exist as a wedge between life and death. The only abomination that would know the true words behind the evil sword. “I cannot speak adequately of the horror that came with its arrival here - there are no words to describe the grand scape of mutilation that took place over the world. The day DoomShear fell from the sky, every living thing bled into the dirt, creating what we know of disease and misery. So many bleak things of which we knew not... Even this.” He pointed at himself. “Curses that shake free from the bindings of the oaths of men and clench tightly on even after death. DoomShear created these things, the black steel sword that the God of Darkness used to strike against the mantle of the galaxy seven times. It was his sinister intent, forged solid and sharp in the fires which raged about it as it burned down from above.”
“How is it that I wield the weapon and still live?”
“That...” The hybrid cadaver shifted, holding his bony hand up to Tundra's chest. “I do not know.”