The sword exulted with the necromancer's willingness to dispose of the souls of his enemies. While it wasn't a question posed to the necromancer in order to decide the fate of one party or the other, it had been a test, to see how introspective he might be, in divining the purpose of the blade in his hand. For the blade, while it could cut many ways, could only cut one way in the hands of it's user once his morality on the subject of souls was decided.
So the blade became a weapon of destruction and ruin, turmoil and terror. It would bring woe to his enemies.
Thus as he made his choice, he felt the sword reveal its nature to him. It began to draw off the necromantic energies from the necromancer, particularly those curses that he was so fond of using during spell-based combat, such as wither and sap. Should he choose to use the blade in this way, he could channel these curses now through its blade with a short ten bits of meditation before engaging in combat. While utilizing this ability, a field would extend a few feet from its edges when it was being swung. And while these spells would have twice the effect as usual when used in this way, they would also cost twice as much ether when channeling spells in this way. Also, while channelling through the blade, he would only be able to utilize these spells through the blade itself, and not in the conventional way.
The sword was made of some grisly material that resembled flesh and bone, with claws protruding as quillions on the crossguard. It shined with gore, and the promise of spilling much more as he would strike it against his enemies. It was as hard and sharp as embersteel, and light as bronze. Well balanced to Cervantez' hand.
He only had to choose for now, whether to utilize its ability to channel these spells, or rely on his adequate combat skills, thralls, and necromantic tactics to tear apart the rest of the cultists.
The blade waited for his instruction and intent.
