"Pain we endure. Faulty weaponry we do not."
{God of War 2018 Starters}
A moment of silent hesitancy collected in the Courier, only gradually convinced to give the Nethermancer over her ‘walking staff’ as he stared on her with all expectation. As it left her fingers, a single murmur slipped her lips to release it from its glamour, the veil of normalcy creeping away to reveal the Harvesting scythe in all its unholy glory.
It would pulse madly in his fingertips, a legion of unintelligible voices overlapping a chaos of dissonant chatter, moans, cries, mutters and innane laughter that would sweep any mind along the current of madness, were the wielder not prepared for the onslaught. Still, the scythe hungered. And yet like a Felhound restricted by chains before a nest of mana wyrms, it could no longer feed.
“…I did not think it would happen, but it’s lost its ability to harvest. As if it has had its fill. But you can feel its hunger too…yes? I have just had to reroute what I take now to normal crystals, but…that’s twenty shards floating around in the damned abyss, if not more. And you know me, Felscythe; I need some air of subtlety.” Safrona chuckled dryly. “At this rate I’ll need to look into one of the Ebon Blade’s runeblades. I don’t have a heavy desire to contract myself to a Death Knight, exactly.”
Her gaze remained on her defunct scythe with lingering disappointment, and with a click of her teeth the Courier was trying to dismiss her obvious attachment to the powerful artifact, one which gave her the name Harvester like it among those caught between the realms. “It was just a tool in the end, yes? I suppose I will just have to find another.
