Tired of reaching to pay your bar tab and finding that some clever-fingered rouge has liberated your funds? Security is only a stitch away! After youÃ¢??re done washing dishes that is.
A thiefÃ¢??s best friend.
After many failures the leading computer company of the 30th Century has finally developed an economic biological chip computer.
In a binary star system circled by four dead, scared planets, a shell of asteroids, and one of the largest intrastellar dust clouds on this side of the quadrant the Silvers are one of the strangest and most enigmatic groups not quite known. Their two giant, red, dying suns leave the system cold and foreboding. They accept no strangers, much to the chastisement of those miners lusting after the rich deposits that span the system. Those few who ignore the shrieking klaxons of the warning beacons meet sleek, silver ships, and then; Oblivion.
Of the little known about this reclusive group a few details are assured, they were founded by some insanely rich (and perhaps insane) personage in ages long past, their ships are feared and envied by nearly every spacer alive, and they are the best mercenaries money can buy, provided you can actually afford them.
Cold Comfort is a long-sword of star-steel, its blade giving off a wan, blueish light. Its grip is wrapped tightly in snow-serpent hide, and its pommel bears a single opalescent gemstone.
This blade is enchanted in such a way, that whoever wields it, begins to fall completely and irrevocably "in love" with the weapon. This love does not manifest itself as the expected reverence and bond formed between any warrior and his weapon, but as a deeper, truer love, one has for a soul-mate of the same species! The longer the wielder carries Cold Comfort the stronger and more disturbing this love becomes, and only the most powerful of magicks can potentially break the sword's insidious spell. The blade's owner will even speak to and coo to the weapon, convinced that the sword understands and returns this epic love.
If the blade's wielder somehow loses the weapon or has it taken away, they will become inconsolable, and will predictably go to "ends of the earth and back" to retrieve it at any cost. Such is the weapon's curse that even separation from it does not damper the feelings the owner has for the sword. Legends tell of several distraught and mind-addled knights who even years after losing the blade, still wander the country-side searching for their lost love. And woe be to the "new lover" if and when they find him or her.