Durandal: Master of the Flames

by Absol Master

Drabble poem. Its owner once mastered fire. But at his first sign of weakness, it turned on him, and trapped him within his own grave, beneath a mountain. The story of the Durandal, done on another whim.

A random drabble about the origins of the Blazing Sword. Done on a whim; took me 20 minutes at most. If I could allude, this is more of a quick sketch than a full, well-worked piece of art. Enjoy it for the impromptu-ness of it.

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Durandal: Master of the Flames

I once mastered the flames

The blazing spires of yellow light

The hedonistic power of anger personified

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It was by my sword, the uncontainable

Became contained, my humble servant,

Burning like the heart of hell itself

Bent to the will of good.

-

It worked for me, won me countless victories

And never stopped burning like a spirited warrior

Restless from being imprisoned in metal

Yearning to leave its confines, but unable to

Endlessly restrained.

-

This blade served me well

Sent me through battle after battle

Against insurmountable power of an inhuman race

And with my companions, we triumphed in the Scouring

Brought reigning peace to Elibe once more.

-

But fire never remains your ally without control

It will turn on you when you let down your guard

And then, it will never stop devouring

Crumple all that lies before into broken blackness.

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I stood at my grave, certain that it was time for my end

My faithful sword, still burning, at my hand

Slowly, I stepped into the cave, turned my eyes to the end

Where I would lie, awaiting my afterlife, alone

After a lifetime of success.

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Then the sword fell, and at that instant, fire took control.

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It roared, caught the warm rocks of the mountain,

Grew into an intangible wall that I would never pass again,

Bore upon me and whirled like a torrent of pain.

-

I thought I would die a natural, painless death,

But my sword, my own servant throughout my life,

My success and my pride

Was the hand that claimed my soul.

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I fell upon the stones of the altar,

The fire an untamed creature once more

It roared around me and crackled towards the dark ceiling,

And the world spun endlessly, fading out into burnt darkness

As I fell, and breathed my final breath of smoke.

-

What irony. I had once mastered fire in my sword

And it had led me on the path to success and victory

But now, I was the one being mastered by flame.

-

My soul joined the sword, and I will forever linger within,

Guarded eternally by the unrest of roaring flames.

And should you manage to pass through it—

You may claim my sword as your prize,

Free me from this blazing prison, for once and for all.