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Kolhatu sighed. Not that anyone could hear him. The great god-king had been reduced to this.... a spirit trapped in the sword of this foolish young whelp, wielded for the most trivial of purposes, things for which a mere twig would have been equally suitable. Last week Ivas had used his blade's shapeshifting powers to snag an old lady's kitten out of a tree where it had trapped itself. Yesterday, the boy had gone around town spearing pieces of trash and depositing them in their proper bins, having learned of the crime of "littering" and developed a fresh obsession with it as the best way to "help society." In Kolhatu's day, warriors did not concern themselves with such lowly tasks.

The spirit of the ancient emperor almost wished that he had never sealed his essence away in the ancestral blade, but it was the way of his people. How could he have known that his would be the last generation before the Great Corruption sealed him off from the world for over nine thousand years? Now he and the magical sword that he resided within were the only thing left of a once great and mighty civilization. His power was supposed to be wielded by a worthy successor to the throne, not some idiot from another era! To make things even worse, for obvious reasons, Ivas had never undergone the proper ritual ceremonies to be able to commune directly with the spirit in the blade. The boy was none the wiser regarding the true nature of "Edge," as he had named his "cool sword."

Kolhatu had made peace with all of this, for the most part, but as a warrior at heart, he still thirsted for battle, for blood, for a true struggle and a worthy foe whose flesh his steel could rend. He would not be satisfied serving as a glorified gardening instrument (as today, Ivas was using him to trim the town's hedges free of charge, a "heroic service" which the local mayor found equal parts helpful and amusing). He needed to make Ivas go to Rzail, the land of strife and undeath, where monsters and demons still walked.... yet no matter how many times he planted visions of the place into the boy's dreams, it was to no avail. The best he could get out of Ivas was a "wow, what a spooky nightmare!" upon waking. Perhaps he needed something to tempt the fool, a carrot to hang from the end of the proverbial stick....

That night, Kolhatu tried something different. Instead of just a straightforward vision of the place, he gave Ivas visions of impossibly cute and attractive young girls, accompanied by the assurance that these angels could be found only in the land known as Rzail. Among his ancestral people, it was said that any warrior who died in glorious combat would be awarded 72 virgins upon ascending to heaven afterwards, and Kolhatu had seen how effective such a promise was in spurring men to hurl themselves into certain death. Some had even been known to use their own bodies as fuel for explosive magical spells in their eagerness to hurry along to this heaven. As god-emperor, he had known that it was of course just a ruse, but if it had worked on them, it would surely work on this rube.

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Ivas awoke practically drooling with the dream still fresh in his mind. He had never imagined that such beautiful creatures could possibly exist!

"Go to.... Rzail? Well! I guess I'm off on my first real adventure. This time there'll be a princess at the end for sure, four of them even!"

The orange gemstone containing Kolhatu's soul blinked in approval, the warlord himself being equally excited by the promise of once again experiencing a true battle. Even better, Ivas might die in battle so that he could get picked up by someone more worthy!