For seventeen long centuries have I remained in this blade, confined within these metal walls. During all my imprisonment you are the first I have seen who is worthy to bear me into battle. Come, take my hilt, and I will serve you in the manner of my kind, drawing the blood of your enemies, protecting you in the midst of the fight, bringing you safe home again. Now draw me from the scabbard and test the fitness of my balance. See how easily I swing, how my keen edge cleaves the air. A good choice, am I not?
Willingly you picked me up. Your first mistake. Willingly you drew me. Your second mistake. I do not allow my servants to make three mistakes, foolish mortal!
— Antinichus, Daemon of the Bloody Blade, Warhammer 40,000
I have this feeling that my luck is none too good
This sword here at my side don't act the way it should
Keeps calling me its master, but I feel like its slave
Hauling me faster and faster to an early, early grave
And it howls! It howls like hell!
Now arms, however beautiful, are instruments of evil omen, hateful, it may be said, to all creatures. Therefore they who have the Tao do not like to employ them.
He thought he could gain power through wearing me. Of course, it is the other way around.
— The Archchancellor's Hat, Sourcery
Viewing it on the monitor, Jack had been able to appreciate its comical appearance as well as its more deadly aspects. Here, standing in its presence, he could see nothing amusing about it at all. The device reeked of destruction and anger, of hatred and pride and a lust for power.
All tools and weapons, Uncle Virgil had once said, could be used for both good and bad. They could be a help in Jack's work, or throw a snarl-up in his path.
But the Death was different. There was no useful task to which it could be put, no role of defense or creation that its technology could provide. All it could do was kill, without discrimination or restraint or mercy.
Deep inside the smelly museum, one old scholar sat in the dim archives. Before him was a box tightly sealed. He was told by the former owner, in no uncertain terms, to "Never open it".
Apparently a fossil that sucks human blood was inside. How foolish. Who'd believe something like that in this time and age? You only believed in this superstition because you lived your life surrounded by books.
He opened the box. Dust flew wildly. There was one strangely shaped stone inside. Since it had a hilt, it might be an instrument for some kind of ceremony… or a weapon. "Such a fascinating shape. I have to do more research on this."
Still, how foolish would you have to be to fear such a thing? Hehehe… the old scholar laughed while gouging out his left eye in front of the fossil.
— The story of the Earth Wyrm's Hook, NieR
To anyone reading this: BEWARE THIS BLADE
It is hoped that the only people having access to this room should be the Jarl of Whiterun and his trusted wizard. If anyone else is reading this, please understand the magnitude of your folly, turn around, and never even speak of this room or this blade to anyone.
It has corrupted and perverted the desires of great men and women. Yet its power is without equal - to kill while your victim smiles at you. Only a daedra most foul could have concocted such a malevolent and twisted weapon. But it appears that all who wield it end up with the crazed eyes of those wild men who roam the hills chattering with rabbits.
It is not to be trifled with. Not even the hottest fires of the Skyforge could melt it; indeed the coals themselves seemed to cool when it was placed within. We cannot destroy it, and we would not have it fall into the hands of our enemies. So we keep it, hidden, dark and deep within Dragonsreach, never to be used.
Woe be to any who choose to take it.
— "Admonition Against Ebony," The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim