The Warrior had his prize and thus began a blood soaked campaign. When the Rune Sword was sheathed he seemed his usual self, but he seemed to go out of his way when there was the smallest opportunity to use it. There was a wild boar that could have easily been dispatched but the sword came out and the crazed look came over him. A shambling bear threatened them, the Warrior’s raw strength would have been a match for it but he needed to let the Sword drink from the thing. A common bandit that could have been bribed with a gold coin was dispatched with the cold blade, and on it went for every terrible encounter.

Bolton and Escobar, an alchemist by trade who had just joined the Warrior, were musing about whether the Warrior wielded the Sword of if the Sword wielded the Warrior. They daren’t speak of this to their master but it may have surprised them that he wondered the very same thing after each killing.

Each time the Warrior sheathed the cruel weapon he vowed to never use it again, embarrassed by his desire for it. Each time he saw an opportunity he drew it and reveled it the perverse delight of the coursing energy it sent through him. It was as if each slaying was in someway compensation for some past injustice. What it really accomplished was to draw him further from his goal and give him a false sense of his own worth.

He was obsessed with dealing with the Giant that had bested him many days ago but had lost its trail and he was now searching vainly, always grumbling about vengeance and hunger.

They had found a road on a grey morning and were about to take some rest and food when an old haggard woman came shambling by, her cane thumping with each step.

“Hello dearies.” She said “You look all done in.” she eyed the Gnome and Alchemist with a jealous eye.

“Take your ease with us if you will madam, but we move quickly on our journey so daren’t hope to keep up. Bolton, would you please make us some food, I think I espy some manner of beast in the thicket there.” He stalked off; hand gripping his prized weapon, even though he had seen no creature.

He returned to such caterwauling that any creature with in five miles had either fled or was headed directly for them.

“Out, you useless little freak!” the old woman was in a fury! “Go now and let me serve my master!”

“Where are my companions?” he bellowed.

“There dearie, those two know nothing about cooking and such. Just look at how they have arranged the fire wood. You are better off with out them.”

He stammered, then called out for his friends but they were well hidden. With a helpless look he sat and was brought cold salted meat and bread.

“What of the fire, surly there will be some hot water for tea at least?” he pleaded.

“Oh dearie, you know so little about such things. Let me handle this and you just eat now.” Her voice was soothing but under it was harshness waiting to be released.

He quickly made to move out but she was at his heels; apparently the walking stick was just an affectation. “Come now dearie, no need to rush, plenty of time.”

He was debating on how best to rid himself of this bothersome old crone, a swift back hand or simple murder, when a bright light filled the world.

The woman cried out and tried to hide beneath a bush but only her head would fit under it, the rest of her sizable self was fully exposed to what ever terror was coming.

The Warrior had no defense against this sort of foe. His shining dark sword was powerless as the creature of light loomed over him.

“A bright blade for a mighty warrior.” It said. “Do you enjoy the taste of power it brings?”

. He wanted to flee but could not; he looked at the Rune Sword. What difference was there now between him and that thing that had crawled from the grave?

“Who are you?” the bright being asked.

“I- I don’t know any more.” He answered. Then he looked up and recognized the being of light.

“What did I always tell you?” the voice asked.

“Father?” it did indeed have the visage of his departed father! “Um...learn something.”

“I cannot aid you, you have gone too far down your path, learn something”

The bright being faded slowly away. He had a new thought now and he came to a decision just before his voluntary follower began her usual tirade. The woman was obviously sent by some demon with a distinctly cruel sense of humor to vex him.