Excalibur is old. Older than the lake it was raised from. Older than the Lady who raised it. Older than the myth of the elf who crafted it. The sword can trace its origins to the early solar system, when the construction of the sun was complete, but the inner planets were still forming.

The sword, which was once a much larger piece of metal, acted as the hood ornament on the flagship of the Spiral Arm King, who once owned all spaces in the sector. While on a fly through of the construction site, an unregistered comet slammed into his ship, knocking the ornament free. After floating through the black for a few hundred million years it took a nosedive into the freshly churned magma fields of a primordial Earth.

Being made from Hadianium, the unforgiving element, it collided with the young Earth with enough force to knock loose the gray phantom that is our Moon. The cracks left behind never healed & eventually became fault lines, leaving the separated segments of the world in a state of perpetual conflict. Forever injured & ill, constantly jostling for position.

With its ability to leave wounds that wouldn’t heal, the remaining meterial was gathered eons later by a group of nameless, forgotten gods & formed into the Excalibur of legend. But the Moon still paces around the Earth, praying for a way home while the Earth looks on at the Moon, racked with pain as its ocean covered skin endlessly crawls.

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