《I am staff》 Birth of Staff "It hurts!" Pieces of my body fall away from me as something hard and sharp separates layer after layer away. Some sadistic entity slowly shaves away sections of of my body. What ever is doing this to me had the patience of a gram grandmaster craftsman, except their craft is torture and I''m their latest victim. "Make it stop!" whatever sadistic tool the entity uses on me seperates another layer of my body as I bellow in agony anew. I wish for nothing more than an end to this existence of suffering, but there is no way for me to end my life. I have no control over myself. I can''t tell whether my limbs were slowly whittled away before i became conscious or if the entity chose to numb only my limbs. The pain resumes. It''s as though I am a block of cheese, except I am made of pain receptors and a hot knife slowly cleanly cuts away prions of myself. Whatever intentions the entity has with my body they seem to enjoy taking their time with torturing me. "Ahhh!" Another wave of pain overcomes me. "How did I get myself into this helpless situation?" Images flash before me. I''m floating above a wizened old man. The flesh hangs on his bones, strewn about bony outlines lacking the supporting structure off muscles. Blotches of brown consuming his skin. Webbing a war against what little whiteness bleaches his leathery skin. Scraggly patches of wiry hair seek freedom from the confines of a finely aged scalp. The gray color of an advanced age all forgotten but a single rebellious strand hanging over the many mountains and valleys built as a monument to a forehead lost to a lifelong war against creases, irises clouded beyond usability, along a precipitous nose with gray tentacles fleeing a hidden abyss, to hang over cracked lips, parched as a sheet of papyrus and colored a dull pink, instead gray and white intermingle along it''s length as yin seeks yang or salt complements pepper. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. The man wears what remains of a black robe overcome with the gnawing of insects. One hand lies on simple tree branch the sap still dripping from where it was torn from a tree. The other lies above the body of a youth, but his features are fuzzy. It''s as though I see him from a great distance through a film of water. For some reason I know that the body is of a young man who''s life was taken by the wizened man. He''s chanting some unintelligible words in stone unknown melodic pattern. I know that hems chanting a spell tip bind his soul tip the youth. Awareness dawn''s on me, I know because i was the wizened man. The youth''s body glows with ethereal light as the chant progresses. The snap of a twig draws the attention of the man as the light reaches it''s zenith. The youth stops glowing as the man turns to check the source of the sound, but the stick takes on the glow. Looks as though a craftsman, denoted by his tool belt stumbles upon the man as he was finishing a ritual. His attention turns back to the ritual and he looks at the hand over the boy, seemingly shifting mana back towards him, but a look of confusion overtakes his focused face as he says "right when you write." The staff glows brighter in his right, or is it left, hand. His face contorts with frustration as his body falls limp and the branch falls into the grass. Everything goes black. Outside Awareness As i come to i feel something about myself changing. I feel beyond myself as though what i identify as myself is no longer limited to my physical form. I begin to perceive my surroundings, yet there is no separation of where i begin and what''s around me ends except for a void of sensations. What immediately surrounds me conforms to the shape of myself and some kind of barrier. It''s cylindrical in nature but shortens towards a circular flat end on one side whereas the other end had nothing to keep the conforming stuff in place. That must be terra''s inherent weight magic keeping it in place. Strange, i no longer feel bound by said weight magic. What I''m in resembles a barrel in shape but all of the other identifying characteristics are lost I me. "Am i in some form of liquid?" As i sit within what i guess to be liquid the void denoting the edge of my perception slowly gets overtaken by what i can only describe as myself though not in the sense that i have control over it so much as in the sense that i can perceive it and identify with it. A hazy figure in the shape of a person enters the range of my perception. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. "Now what ranking could this hard shapely wooden staff be?" A nasally voice enters my mind. "Propped between a man aged as though a fine wine and shapely young man just beginning to blossom into maturity. What daring uses could they have thought up that caused them to pass with a hard wooden rod betwixt them. I can think of a good number of VERY enjoyable activities that might cause such a demise. In fact, i can''t think of a more passionate way to go myself. This shapely staff will be a monument to their memory. Now let''s check how the mana water is infusing into it." The person monologues for quite some time before approaching me. Character of said questionable person aside, i take it that this is the craftsman that prevented my ritual from completing. As i come out of the mana water everything surrounding me becomes clearer. Just A Staff "Identify." The craftsman casts a spell that oft fills a craftsman''s repertoire. As if a naked man''s most precious suddenly appeared before him, his face slackens. Mouth agape, eyelids extended to suck in the greatest amount of light possible, and eyebrows exerting their all to hold the up the world that just crashed down upon him. His pupils shifted side to side with the rapidity of the star ping pong ball in a world championship finalist''s match, trying but clearly failing to comprehend what lies before him. "Legendary? Legendary¡­ LEGENDARY!!!" Confusion, shock, ecstasy. "I made a legendary! How is this even possible? I thought masterwork at most because of all the work i put into this piece. This is beyond me. Beyond what i could craft." He reads over the information box again trying to decern anything that could possibly help him understand what led to me being a legendary work. Seems he doesn''t know that my soul resides within the wood he so conveniently chose to make a staff out of. "Hmm. Wait a minute. Growth factor? What''s this? Description." The craftsman mumbles his thoughts beneath his breath. "Growth factor huh? I haven''t heard of that effect either. I''ve utilized a number of masterwork staffs during my time as a Necromancer. Could it be a legendary only item effect or does it have something to due with my soul getting bound to this weapon? Does this mean i can''t die unless the staff gets destroyed?" I sigh heavily, at least mentally. Without a mouth i couldn''t express myself even if i wanted to. "Fancy that, immortalized within a staff as i tried to extend my life by binding my soul within a young body. I would be ecstatic that i could, but without a human body it doesn''t seem like i''m driven to feel anything but the mental shadows that my soul remembers. Shadows of feelings lost to a failing of distinction between right and left. Only time will tell whether this is a boon or a curse to me. I''m no longer sure what me means to this existence anymore." This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "This is- This is amazing! A legendary class item with unlimited potential to grow with the user. I''m going to be rich!" Seems like the effect is good enough to merit an improvement to my selling price for the craftsman. Not sure how i feel about being sold into slavery, or if the increased value will be enough to offset the gold loss from such a grating voice. "Zane!" A booming voice reberberates throughout the craftman''s shop and my body responds in kind. The voice resembles a natural born ruler''s, oozing so much charisma that it could charm a new mother in a loving relationship to end it on a moments notice.