Name Magic

He slowly pulled his obsidian sword into existence from behind his back where he kept it hidden. He'd not explored its actual magical traits either. Certainly obsidian wasn't normally a material one would expect a sword to be made of, but this one had to be magic in order to survive as glass stone against any metal sword. The glossy black sheen fit the bill - sword of the King of Death, but other than to be scary as death itself, it had no other properties of magic as far as he knew.

Lar wasn't looking at his audience, but he could feel their sympathetic eyes on him. Instead he turned the sword around, blade to his chest and reached out the length for the two guards. The sword was almost too long for him this way, but it wouldn't take much. Lar listened to the steady, slightly frantic beating of his heart, mentally moved the tip down a half inch to be sure he didn't hit a rib, let out a final breath and then pulled the sword toward himself with all his might.

He felt a pop and then as if a tremendous weight fell on him, he suddenly couldn't remain upright. The sword burned like Helaine's fire and he could imagine his insides melting under the blood that now began to fill places it wasn't meant to be. He didn't feel himself on the ground, or when Yeolani removed the blade from out of his chest, but when he opened his eyes, with tremendous effort, all he saw was the dark of the cavern's ceiling and Owailion's glorious light. Something buzzed in his ears and filled all his consciousness--that and the light. Lar focused on the light like it was Helaine's beloved face.