Memories stirred in the cunning one's mind. The man who taught him the blade came to mind. A chiseled face and scars of two wars stuck out most to Jerrick.  Before Jerricked killed the man, he remembered a story.<br/><br/><i>"Boy you fancy a fine sword, but remember so does another. A petty man will kill you for your blade. As a blade is a tool that embodies power. Power is what a man can covet more than any woman or gold, as with enough power both are free to you. Swords of Power that can turn a man into a contender of angels and demons, swords such as these have been forged. A certain type, Demon Swords were forged so that man could fight those that came from the hells were almost as deadly to man as the demons who they were designed to fight. wars were faught over such blades, and now no-one can lust after them. So when you learn of such blades blades, do you really fancy taking mine boy?"</i><br/><br/>Jerrick gripped<i>his</i>scimitar with a smug grin as he relived the moments before his final lesson.<br/><br/>"Aria, hmm", he mused as he walked about her. "Why does a sword need a master? is there a limit on this form, as it is an extroardinay ability for a blade. I realise as a sword you may have great power. I'm just not the sort who goes fidlling with things he doesn't understand. Doing that gets one a nice room with a dirtview, and I plan to see plenty of sky before I'm killed."<br/><br/>He ordered his unseen servant to clean up more around the table. He appraised her looks, the dress hung a bit loose, though Aria did have a dancer's body.  She was wearing clothes, so perhaps she wasn't an illusion after all.