An axe of extraordinary power. There couldn't possibly be anything harmful about it- right?
A sword containing the mind of a legendary general, and very picky who may wield it.
A royal heirloom passed down from the original dwarven deep-king Hjotar Zan Madroszal. Also known as the hammer of delayed oomph.
"Though he walk through the most dangerous ghetto in the city, he shall fear no evil with Lawboon by his side."
A sword with a mission
A special sword that benefits from cleaving skulls at its owner's command.
The two gently-humming, crystal-studded blades are semi-transparent and sharpened to a deadly razor edge. The haft between the blades is decorated with brilliant multi-colored crystals. The balance and craftsmanship are perfect. You feel that these trusty blades will never fail you.
A mighty Demon, now trapped and confused, may make for a powerful ally.
A gleaming blade of translucent flint, crafted to defend the ancient Hunting People tribe.
Two fully sentient enchanted scimitars.
My own take on the whole intelligent weapon thing
This sword has had many names. Dreamdweller is just one of them. It has also been called “The Moon’s reflection”, “Soul’s guide” and many others… The sword dwells it’s power from the character, from his essence, his dreams and thoughts…
The Grand Sword of the Warlord is a weapon of destiny. It has been wielded by most of the greatest warrior leaders in History. It is their compaion. It is also, unknown to most, a legacy of Corvus the Mad.
A weapon with multiple personalities. Always a chance you can get the one you want, always a chance you won’t. Once drawn will you be able to wield it? Will you be able to use the powers and knowledge or will you be swept away by the needs and wants of this intelligent item?
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.