The dark selection of Daggers
I had me a dream once. Just after I *acquired* this here knife. Only the knife was a bit shinier and I was in an alley somewhere. I dunno, maybe it was Brie or Holsten, someplace like that. Anyways, I'm walking down this alley when I comes across some dumb bloke trying to shortcut his way to market. Like *my* alley is a god-d**ned thoroughfare for just anyone!
a slivery blade with a barbed hook at the end the blade shineing red as the light hits it
A legendary Artifact of the first brutal Ice Age.
A curious dagger, with a blade stained by ancient gore; it has seen many dark deeds, yet goes unsuspected as more than some old piece of junk.
This weapon did not start out as magical. Nor was it ever enchanted. It was the touch of the Dark Man who made it a "fell item".
An otherwise simple spear, the dread blade of Hatred brings rot and decay to all it strikes, be it armour, body, or soul.
Yet another use for the ubiquitous Iron Spike.
Tantalum is a rare, blue-grey metal that is found deep within the chasms of Ferchiun*. Immune to all but the strongest acids, if more had heard of it would be more sought after. It is nearly as hard as adamantine and holds an edge equally as well. Those few who believed such a tale did not return from their quest to gather any, or if they did, it was not to the homes from which they came.
The tomb robber smashed his way into the royal barrow, and shone his torch around. Painted upon the walls was a fresco of a king pulling a sword from a stone, and in front of the sarcophagus was a large lump of lead with a sword hilt within it. He pulled at the hilt and grinned as a sword with it’s blade glowing a soft green emerged from the lead, wondering how much money he could sell it for.
Once wielded by the priests of the Jackal God Uep-Hawet, their heirs will suffer no others to possess it…
Great things happen when leaders put their heads together…
The endless dark of the depths, the strength of the tsunami, the drowning embrace of the cold, these are the
Remember student, there are a million ways to kill a man, but only two ways to keep him dead, and those are the total annihilation of either the body or the soul. And I’m not altogether sure about the first.
In the inaccessible plateau of Hor-Nushan, there was always little crime. But in late autumn comes a maddening wind, that can drive the best man crazy, if only for a short time, make him turn on himself or others. For murder, the locals have devised a special punishment: the murderer has to dig a well for the family of his victim. The area is very dry, and having a good well is a source of wealth and prestige. In this way, the murderer atones for his deed and repays the family; perhaps they even find peace.