The Dark Zunanman Blade

Before progressing with the story, I will give a description of my OC, Aethel:

She is a wolf branded whose age is pretty much like Soren's: She's around 20 or so but she looks like she's 15/16. Her Brand is on her left shoulder.

She has white hair that has baige/brown streaks kind of like dirty-blonde but it's white. She also has slightly tan skin. Her clothes are typically like any of the three sword classes with dark colors.

Prologue: Aethel's Flight

Aethel is thirteen years old

Aethel once again found herself marveling at the sword in the glass case. It was her sword, but she was not ready to wield it yet. Aethel had never seen anything like it. Black metal, and strange runes. The sword's aura though, was menacing. She felt drawn to taking up the sword, but doing so would result in calamity, she knew.

"You know you won't get that, yet." said Elder as he entered the room where he kept Aethel's sword.

"I know...but I just want to..." Aethel laughed, "...spend time with it. After all, I need to get used to its thirst for blood don't I?"

Elder chuckled, "Yes, I see. Keeping control of your emotions amidst chaos and rage is a vital skill anyone should know. You especially, if you are to wield that sword."

Aethel nodded, "That's why you can keep so calm around people, isn't it?"

"Precisely. Most youths aren't nearly as controlled as you. You should be proud. Your difference from Beorc brings you suffering, but you can become strong and thrive. I have faith in you."

Aethel thought for a moment. "You know...something's been bothering me for a very long time now."

"And what is that?"

"I don't like the fact that I've been making myself become so...emotionless. I don't want to be stoic all the time."

"I understand, Aethel. But for now, you must be calm for the most part. Then, when you are more careful with your actions, you can let your emotions roam at times, but not out of your control. If you want to wield the noble sword that you were given, you must not let yourself give in to the temptations of the blade. Blatt Schattenvarg is a legendary sword of the long lost Zunanma, particularly of the wolf-like ones. For you to be its chosen wielder is an honor, a blessing, and a curse. You are given the honor of wielding the sacred blade, the blessing of carrying it's great power, and the curse of maintaining the feral desire of the blade. For as well as gentle compassion for their valued ones, wolves will turn feral and cruel towards their foes."

"And my parents only had the sword..."

"Yes. They worked tirelessly to find the staff... If you can find the staff, you will possess both sides of the wolf."

"And both call out to each other."

One night, days later:

Aethel was frozen under her bed, as she heard the shouts outside:

"Do you know how many nights I've had my lumber axe next next to my pillow?"

"How dare you teach a demon how to swordfight!"

"That wench has to go! It's been here too many years!"

Elder and a few of the other villagers stood in front of his house, facing a large group of other villagers. Most of them had weapons.

Marlow, one of the villagers who was friendlier to Aethel, was yelling back at the mob, "Aethel had no intention to harm us, ever! Don't any of you trust Elder?"

"He's out of his mind!"

"She's a cursed being that should never have been brought into this world!"

Elder bellowed back, "That's enough out of you all! This girl eats, breathes, and feels! She has nothing against the goddess, she has nothing against Beorc! She is innocent and you shun and curse her! She is terrified as we speak! Can you fools not see reason? Can you?"

The majority still wasn't convinced.

Aethel mustered up the courage to crawl out from under her bed when Elder spoke. She stumbled to the room where her sword was, tears flying behind her.

"That demon has overstayed its welcome!" A villager said.

"If you don't move, we will make you move!"

The people on Elder's side looked at each other uncertainly.

"You wouldn't dare ignore my words!" Elder replied.

"Get out of the way, you feeble old man!"

Aethel heard pounding on the door as she removed Blatt Schattenvarg from it's case. She cried out, not from fear of the villagers, but from a sharp pain that shot from her right hand to her shoulders. It felt like a toxin had entered her system from the sword, and was now consuming her.

The door was broken down, and furious villagers flowed into the entrance room. Aethel walked slowly, dragging the sword behind her until she met the first villager in the hallway.

"Here she is!"

Aethel slashed at the man, who blocked the sword with an axe. But as the two weapons collided, a dark aura leapt out of the sword and engulfed the villager's head, stealing the life away from it. Aethel saw three more men behind him. Aethel felt only a surging river of anger, and now it was about to fall upon the villagers, shoving them down into the sharp rocks.

The next morning, she was sitting away from the sword, which she had thrown as far as she could throw it. Her entire self, body and mind was in agony. She hadn't seen Elder's corpse yet, and was afraid to search beyond the corpses she could see in the doorway of Elder's house.