This blade is one of the fabled Fatal Swords of antiquity, the metal of the blade folded one-million times.
A sword that stores the identity of the wielder. To transfuse the soul to the blade, one must first stab himself through the heart. The person will not die, but lose the freedom of the soul upon real death.
A wonderous weapon bearing the power and grace of the elvish people…
Cursed swords that bring bad fortune to whoever wields them. Or are they?
A close-quarter combat weapon common in the Locastrian armed forces.
The traditional weapon worn by members of the Maul Rats Regiment.
Brumborion’s blade, the fang of the north, ice razor, the glacial sword, Givone’s Favor
A quick flash of steel was all that was seen in the moonlight…
Most soldiers walk tall with their swords, but few swords walk tall with their soldiers.
A wicked variant on an ancient weapon, the AtomForce NC-3000 is a multi-purpose, close combat tool that allows the wielder a true variety of force options at ranges too close for firearms.
Yet another use for the ubiquitous Iron Spike.
Swords are deliverers of death to the living. This one offers something more to those already dead…
Tired of losing those daily fights in the bathroom? Try this towel on for size.
A sword with a bitter history and a dark stigma
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.
A magic weapon common among the Orcish tribes
The sword of swords, it is what it needs to be.
If your gonna bury someone, you may as well make sure they stay buried, right? Well, this will definately help.
If drawing your sword won’t send people running, then maybe this sword’s singing will.
"So you have burned down the village?"
"Speak no more! I see the guilt in your eyes. Prepare for your punishment!"
The old clock tower stands tall, but the bulk of the uppermost storey is crumbling and unsafe, with gaping cracks in the walls. The metal struts and girders supporting the great bronze bells are still intact, though, and the bells survive. The grotesque gargoyles and arabesques which decorated the original design have either fallen into the street (once or twice a year more bricks fall from the tower, prompting calls for its demolition) or have been defaced, but the main doors to the clock tower are still intact and show signs of being kept in working order. This is the home of The Captains, clad in raggedy clothes, with sooty faces, and perpetually runny noses. But behind each set of eyes is the look of a survivor. They live to stick together and make it through each day. Older than their years in many ways, the friendship they share with each other and Wims ghost keeps the core of a childs innocence and hope alive in each. But they are still very suspicious of outsiders. They are a group of street children who live in the clock tower. Some are orphans, some runaways, and some nomads who occasionally return to their homes. But they’re all poor, dirty and perpetually hungry, as well as being wily, unscrupulous and mischievous in a fairly brutal way. Enough of them have suffered at the hands of adults for all of them to be wary of any grown-ups, particularly ones who ask too many questions, although with hard work and a lot of food it might be possible to win the confidence or even the trust of a few of them.