A sword containing the mind of a legendary general, and very picky who may wield it.
A destroyed Kingdom of the Moon, Imbria was lost and it's flotsam of debris rained down on Earth. Among the treasures of shattered Imbria were it's Ancient Swords
A sword with a mission
A sword that defines and exemplifies the city of Angradhat
He struck out hard with the blade, cutting his foe down to the bone in the arm that held the weapon , only to feel agony in his own sword arm as if it too had been cut right down to the bone. As he dropped his blade due to the shock and two more opponents closed in to cut him down, he realised to his horror that his blade was a Feeling Sword and that he was unlikely to survive this fight.
A hilt built like a ceremonial goblet, and not the nice kind, a hideous blade of ash and flame erupt from the lip. To wield this blade is to forsake the Heavens and thrust the power of Hell into your foes.
As soon as he had set his eyes upon The Sword of all Swords he knew it must be the perfect blade for him. And he would stop at nothing to possess it!
Handed down from Master to Apprentice for hundreds of years, the mokgum of the Chil Sung Kwan contains the essence of the Way.
The Icicle Sword is a powerful weapon of cold, but those who use it’s full powers almost allways pay with their lives.
30 groups of magical swords
Brumborion’s blade, the fang of the north, ice razor, the glacial sword, Givone’s Favor
A sword with a bitter history and a dark stigma
The sword of swords, it is what it needs to be.
The blade of the adamant blossom…
To Remove All Pain
Etching on the blade of the Anodyne Sword
Sometimes a sword’s value is not determined by magical properties, of gilding and jewels. Sometimes it’s value comes from it’s deeds and it’s history
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.