Now, I know what you're going to say. "Petulant little sword," you'll think. "Wants to have it exactly his way, picky little thing."

Now listen. I can condone violence. Of course you already know I *encourage* it. But it has to be done *right* or else there's no point, is there? So when this guy comes strutting along, ranting about destroying his enemies, I of course sent out a vibe to lure him in. I'd been sitting under river muck for nearly 50 years, it was time for my glorious comeback!

Except he was a raging narcissist.

And, look, I love bloodshed. I love when they scream my name before every killing stroke. But this idiot was screaming *his own name* when he was cutting down his foes! *His* name! Who does that?! What kind of egomaniac... Yes yes, I know it's hypocritical but evil is *my* thing, I can't have someone go and take all the credit for my sharp edge. Do you know how often I get whetted? Literally only when I was made. No one puts in the work, so I do not *appreciate* being a side character in my own bloody quest!

So of course I had to start a war among potentials, and it was great fun, really. I just amped up the bloodlust until he started swinging in a crowd, and sent out my hate-filled vibe. Oh, they tore each other to pieces, I'd never felt so alive.

You know, until they all died. And the locals didn't even bother coming to bury them all, claiming it was cursed land.

*Again* someone else gets credit, obviously it's not the *land* that's cursed... Ugh.

So here I sit, talking to crows for another Gods-only-know how long. At least I can't physically rust.

I don't suppose your talons are strong enough to carry me..?

Edit Sorry, I forgot about the "turn him good" part of the prompt... Anyway I had fun writing it.