What you're about read is actually what inspired the 1999 scenario I've been developing for a while now, which already has its own thread in the forums. So technically, this belongs in fan stuff, but I feel like it's actually a plausible enough explanation to deserve a spot in general discussion. It's a somewhat... poetic version of events, to say the least, but otherwise, it should be self-explanatory.
The part explaining the Grimoire's existence isn't particularly important, but otherwise I find this to be a pretty elegant solution that's whip-centric instead of Belmont-centric. Enjoy the read, and let me know what you think.
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So [...] I wanted to present my take on the whole Belmont-whip device IGA left unexplained. I decided to look at it differently: instead of asking: "why couldn't the Belmonts touch the whip?", I asked: "why didn't the Belmonts touch the whip?". Admittedly, it was a more interesting option; it could be by choice and not by constraint that the whip stayed out of Belmont hands.
It's worth noting that the whip isn't just any ordinary whip; there's a woman's soul 'imbued' in it - a woman who sacrificed herself out of love and a yearning for justice. It wouldn't, then, be inappropriate to wonder what kind, devoted Sara would have felt when the whip she incarnated was used, century after century, to destroy anything and everything that stood in its way. What would she feel when the whip left the hands of the one man she trusted and loved and passed down through generations of sons who would grow less and less aware of her sacrifice and what it entailed? Sons who would eventually see in the whip nothing more than a source of power and, perhaps, become oblivious as to her very existence? Perhaps, then, would her soul within the whip slowly sink into darkness, into corruption, as her righteous fury and love were simply used for mindless destruction, and no longer understood, cherished, or cared for.
By giving up all that she was out of faith and devotion, then, Sara would have damned herself to an eternity of hatred and carnage in the hands of her own blood. Her growing corruption would eventually take hold of those who wielded the whip itself [...]. And so Richter, driven by a lust for power and glory, would lose his purpose under Shaft's dark influence. Upon awakening, he would finally look into the whip and discover an abomination that would fill him with dread. Hoping that what twisted filial love Dracula still held for Alucard would indefinitely delay his return, Richter resolved to end a legacy of sorrow that he knew had gone too far. Determined to set Sara's soul free, he shattered the whip and scattered its fragments across the continent. Finally, wanting no part of what he feared might eventually come, he sealed into an enchanted tome - the Grimoire - the memories of his family's past... as well as what he knew of its future.
But Sara's soul was not freed. It remained tethered to the whip, imprisoned within it, in utter confusion. After decades of agony, the two fragments of the whip were discovered by two separate families - the Morris family, and the Lecarde family. Not wanting to concede their share of a power they coveted, but wary, as time passed, of Dracula's eventual return, the two families devised an arcanic pact to reforge the whip and coerce its soul into accepting an unknown wielder. "Richter's memory" was thus a remnant of the last wielder a tormented Sara had trusted, and this vague memory was time and again crushed by the clans' attempts to subdue it. Yet as weak and confused it was, the whip would fight back. And so John Morris would succumb to the whip's corruption [...]
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