The demon’s ichor dripping from his shattered breastplate, the massive warrior raised his fist to the sky and screamed. “My thanks Oh Oydin for this final victory. Our foes lay shattered at your feet, and we, Are, VICTORIOUS!” Torn and bleeding from scores of wounds, the warrior dropped his massive and broken shield beside the monstrous demon’s crushed skull and stared at the remains of the incinerated mace. He sketched a bow to the now useless weapon and then turned to face the blackened altar.
“After all these years and too many deaths, at last…” Leather creaking and armour groaning he dropped to his knees and bowed his mighty head in supplication. For a moment then he rested his head and remembered the path. The journey of sorrows and tragedies that would now live on only in song.
Then he surged to his feet and strode purposely up the basalt stairs and the pains and sorrows of battles present and past fell away as he stood straight and proud before the sword that lay wrapped in the perfect folds of stone. As he laid his hands upon the sharkskin hilt twined with threads of pegasus mane and decorated with a single massive blue stone, he once again tilted is head back and spoke to the sky.
“I come to claim my birthright. I have survived the trials and defeated your enemies and, as it was foretold, it is time for peace in the land. With this the sword of Oydinright, I and my sons will rule in your name and no more shall Loski’s minions trouble our people. It is done.”
And with that he heaved mightily on the sword to draw forth the ancient symbol of a god’s love and approval and bring it once more into the land.