Angles enters the room the other group are in, and starts slowly making her way towards the pedestal.
The Scorpion didn't trust the pedestal, but she approached it anyway. The light was bright, so her helmet compensated for the blinding glare. Red eye-lenses darkened as she made her way forward to see what lay upon it.
As the group drew closer, a single blade was revealed. In appearance it seemed similar to a witchblade, but it was apparent, it wasn't exactly a witchblade. It seemed to resonate with an aura of experience, and several gems adorned the handle, though, what other secrets the weapon held, who could tell?
Something about the blade called to Jyraielle. She took a step forward, then another. Her insticts screamed at her to be careful, to take more caution over the sword, that maybe it was a trap. But she thought about the lizard-entity at the beginning of the puzzlement. There were rumours of such creatures, older than the stars, maybe even older than the Eldar themselves ... rumours that they had nurtured creation. Of course, to a child of Kurnous and Isha that made no sense, but perhaps it was a a metaphor for their wisdom. Or perhaps she was being foolish beyond measure. But the fact remained that someone here would likely have to take the sword. Better that she took the risk than they did. Reaching out, the Scorpion took the blade, holding her breath, waiting ...
"Watch yourselve" zereltih said to scorpion "Spirit seer can you see if the weapon has any spirit stones in it"
In an instant the blade sprung to life. Blood red runes began to emerge along the center of the blade. A mere moment later the blade was covered in a blazing flame, but the grip of the blade was left untouched. Before any further reaction could be made the blade grew even brighter, now growing red hot and the immediate area around the Striking Scorpion was covered in a blaze as well. A presence nudged against her mind and then immediately barged in. Memories began to flood her mind, but none of them hers. Countless battles from an age long gone. Memories of all who fell before this blade and its wielder. Their experiences beginning to blend with hers. Becoming her memories, yet, not hers. Then, the presence withdrew before anything further was done. Her memories still entirely distinguishable from those she had been granted; her personality intact. The next moment her chainsword was tossed from her waist, pulled away by a sudden shift in the fire. The blade itself seemed to have a presence about it, a will, and it was clear to her... The blade refused to be wielded alongside another. The flames died down, leaving the Striking Scorpion unharmed, her chainsword nowhere to be seen.
