Deep underground, sealed away from the world, lay a dark crypt. This crypt was one of long ago yet to be explored by people of the current day an age. Inside was many artifacts tucked away from a time long past. Who had collected them was a mystery. What for, was just as big a mystery. The only thing that was for sure was that there was indeed quite an expensive collection of artifacts. Things ranging from old weaponry to even older coins. Amongst them lay the decorated corpses of the family whose crypt this belonged to. Some corpses lay in suits of armor or chain mail adorned with the family crest. Others in more modern clothes such as a suit or dress. This crypt had been tucked away... passing by this whole time unnoticed at least until a light earthquake split the ground above the crypt exposing it to the outside world up above. For a time it remained unnoticed until a group of explorers happened upon it and down into the crypt they ventured. For days they dug up the crypt and drug out its riches. Dividing it amongst themselves they set out to spend it. One of these adventurers had traveled to Medius to pawn his findings. Amongst his share was a hand and a half longsword. It looked magnificent. The hilt was made of white gold with a purple gem affixed to the pommel. Across the cross guard a purple wing was etched. The blade was white as snow and bore black runes down the blade. It was deadly sharp and had no sheathe so he wrapped it in cloth and had to be careful so it wouldn't cut through. It was his prize and he decided he would keep it for his personal weapon. A month or so later he had pawned all of his share save a few minor things and was fast dwindling away his riches on booze. He bragged about his findings and his adventures but he never mentioned a word about the sword. The was his secret and he didnt want anyone else to know lest they try and steal it. One night sitting alone in his hut, drunk, he was pondering where all his money went and feeling sorry for himself. Then he got the urge to pull out the sword. Maybe its time I sold it he thought to himself. He dug it out from under the loose floorboard that was hidden under his bed and and unwrapped it. Taking it in his hand he swung it through the air cutting an imaginary man in two. Oh how he loved this sword. There was no way he could part with it. It was just too well crafted. He looked around his room and eyed his bed post for a second. He began to wonder just how sharp it was. He had never tested it before. Why not now he thought. he approached his bed and drew he sword overhead. He hestitated for a moment and then brought it down diagonally across attempting to cleave off the bed post. As the blade his the wood is sunk halfway into the post before it caught a nail and stopped in its tracks. The jolt of the strike reverberated down the blade and up the hilt. He cursed at having struck a nail and pulled the blade free from the post. He plopped down on his bed and looked the blade once over for dings hoping the nail had not harmed the blade. Having found no marks he set it down next to him on the bed. Feeling satisfied and tired he let the alcohol take him and he fell asleep. In his sleep he rolled and knocked the sword from the bed. As the blade hit the floor it bounced and hummed much like a tuning fork. Meanwhile, at the same time that the sword struck the nail, somewhere in a world of nothingness a collection of thoughts felt this tug. The tug seemed to kickstart it and got the thoughts whirring again. The mass of thoughts was drawn to this tug as a creature drawn to a noise. It was lost though only having an idea of where the tug came from. Then as the sword hit the floor and massive pull could be felt by the collection of thoughts and it let itself be drawn in by it. The swords humming stopped and it laid there cold and lifeless. A minute passed by and then another. Then the sword glowed for a second and turned to energy. The mass of energy then changed shape and took form and the glow left. Where the sword had laid was now a male. He appeared only of 19 years old. He had white hair, purple eyes, and was of a slim build. The boy laid there still and lifeless for a few more second before sitting up with a gasp. Confused he glanced around the room. "Where the hell am I?" He thought to himself. His memories were all jumbled and he couldnt remember what exactly he had been doing last. One thing he did know was he needed to get out of there before this man woke up with him in his house and the sword missing. So quietly he stole himself a loose fitting button up white shirt and what resembled blue jeans. In his escapades through the house he noticed a targe with a family crest that seemed familiar to him so he grabbed that as well and let himself out a window. On the streets outside he slung the targe over his shoulder and headed towards the nearest noises he could hear in the distance hoping it was more people. He had questions. "Thankfully he was drunk" he said out loud to himself as he stepped his first couple steps away from the mans house.
