"[b]...[/b]" [i]He squinted a second more, then sighed, throwing up his arm in a dismissive manner as he turned to the blade in the rock. There was history in that sword, beyond even the Arthurian legends. It was ancient, powerful, and righteous. He could feel it's history, age, and power flowing off of it in waves, but he could also feel it's righteousness, holiness, and virtuosity. He was certain he would fail. He didn't even know what he would do if he somehow did not. He already had a sword, one of greater age, but of far less renown. It suited him, and he it. So, if by some miracle he pulled this sword from the stone, he had no idea what he'd do with it. Still, he had come this far. He walked up to the stone, taking the hilt in both hands, and pulled with all his strength, the Yodünfire coursing through him and strengthening him further.[/i]