Fliron

The Blade of the Grave, It slashes and clashes Slaughtering any foes it comes near, The blood it has shed is many, for thousands died in its misery, Every dead body it was cursed, for their bones are done to earth. The dead were caught in its depths, they cry for mercy on their deathbed, worms and bacteria feed their flesh, till not a speck of bone or flesh is there, not a single survivor escaped this blade. This the Blade of the Grave, its name is Death on it, not even the Grim Reaper could hold it, for the Angel of Death told it to not behold it, the weeping could not escape its wrath, for their misery is in the depths. There was a man