The glistening beauty of the mythological age artifacts lured Marshall into the Museum, as did the Free Entry Day fliers he saw all over his favorite coffee shop. He hurried in, hoping from piece to piece, smiling from ear to ear as he moved along. It was a rare thing that Marshall got to experience actual peace, realistic happiness. He planned on enjoying it all to it's fullest potential.

"To think, in a few centuries, I too could be a myth." The thought humbled him, as so many things did over his life. In fact, he was so humbled he almost didn't notice the orange restriction tape glaring across an exhibt and actually managed to barely not bump into it. "Sorry." He said out of habit, but no one noticed him, even the security guard. Curious, he turned away from the tape and looked toward what the tape was protecting.

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What he saw was something amazing hidden in a broken case.

"A Damascus Steel Blade, wow!" He muttered in awe. The blade was almost three feet long, with a swirling, oily rainbow pattern glimmering over what looked like carvings of a battlescene. "Wait, that's... no, that's a person healing someone, and another is protecting the healer. I'd like that." And it was true, Marshall's greatest ambition was to be a Nurse, a real healer in the world of men.

'Pity it'll never happen.' He thought, sighing, eyes stinging from the painful thought. Rubbing the tears away as he walked away, he did not notice the piece of orange tape that fluttered to the ground, at least not until he stepped on it. Flailing as he slipped back, Marshall reached for anything to keep himself up.

The blade was his only perchase, blood and pain tearing across his palm.

Heat exploded from the blade, along with sheer golden light, and Marshall found himself falling... falling...

Falling.