The weapon of choice of the royal guards, the Danamax rapier is a symbol of an enduring dynasty.
The legacy of a master of the martial arts, the Fistwraps of Hwang are a testament to his sheer willpower.
Handed down from Master to Apprentice for hundreds of years, the mokgum of the Chil Sung Kwan contains the essence of the Way.
And… The Young Thug pulled out a… Dead Rat? Didn’t see that coming.
Carved to bring glory to the Patient One, the silent and frigid Abomination that holds dominion over the frozen wastes, the Glacier’s Fist is heralded as a deadly weapon, but the true purpose of it is a much more subtle thing.
Forged and folded by the ancient and holy methods, Warprender and Weftcleaver have incorporated the very transformations that allow man to traverse the stars into their exotic blades.
Like magic Methnik’s sword passed through that of his foes….All too late, the blade was at his neck, it burnt, stinging like acid, it slivered through skin and muscle. Methnik crumpled to his knees, then to the floor, his eyes greyed over and he heard faint words, maybe those of his foe? "Your last lesson in this life. Your teacher? A Serivemn"
This blade is one of the fabled Fatal Swords of antiquity, the metal of the blade folded one-million times.
A close-quarter combat weapon common in the Locastrian armed forces.
The traditional weapon worn by members of the Maul Rats Regiment.
A quick flash of steel was all that was seen in the moonlight…
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.
Built for an assassin, the Devouring hand can pass many an attempt to detect it, yet it demands a terrible price of its wearer…
When man thinks of the wild, he thinks of the lush greenery of the forest, of the majestic plains and the deep mountains. He thinks of the elegant wild deer, of the mighty bear and the stealthy wolf. But there is another side to nature. This is the Legacy of one who learned.
A weapon from before the time of men, enchanted in times of legend by the greatest of the land’s druids.
A simple knife, designed to hold its poison far longer than a blade with poison simply smeared over it.
“Masterful Ares, god of war you place me in this dread place far from my home, no friends or family, and only you to talk to. Still even you seem never to answer. I have served you many a century and still you wont answer my prayer, well this last prayer I will send with all the blood of the men of this world if you will send me home.” Paladrim, his final prayer to Ares
A dark dagger of song, forged for vengance. It shall have that vengance.
A long sword with a curved light steel-like blade and a ruby inlaid into the pommel of the swords hilt. Used by the greatest of Warriors to vanquish their foes, be them good or evil.
“A man needs two things to become a saint. He must perform three miracles, and then he must die. Perform your miracles, sir, and come to me when you are ready to become a saint.”
—Azariah Saintmaker, Dread Lord of Hatred
The PCs have travelled long and far. As nightfall approaches a mighty storm is unleashed. Luckily there is a lush wood nearby the path.
A good shelter for the rage of the unnamed weather gods it seams at first. As the PCs enter under the roof of this dense wood, they are welcomed by only a few drops wich is allowed trough the thick forest crown. A fire is offcourse required to warm the weary bones of the travellers. As one of the party is set to the task of collecting firewood the others settle down at a suitable location. But alas, they did not know the perils of this forest. But it seems clear to the rest of the party that something ill is at work as the woodcutters scream echo from afar.