Tithinian the master smith was the first to receive the new steel, the product of the recently founded Hilsatiri mines. The gnomes were only too happy to provide the iron to make the fine Elvish Steel. He began the complex ritual that accompanied the making of the best of the elvish war-blades. His hammering of the steel followed an ancient proscribed rhythm, one which if followed to perfection would lend the blade the full power and grace of the elvish people.

For hours he worked, the hammering pattern musical and unbroken, until just near the end. His mind slipped, for a moment, but no slips were allowed. His next hammer-strike was off, and instead of the harmonic ring, a discordnant tone assaulted his ears. The blade, once shimmering with magic and harmony, became dark and ugly.

Enraged with himself, he cursed the blade, forgetting for the moment who he was, and where. Still raging, he took the spoiled blade over to the crucible and threw it in to be reforged later. It would be days before he’d be ready to work on the next blade….

Elvish Songblades

The Sarini Elves produce wondrous cold-forged swords in their tree-bound workshops.  Not using fire in their creation appeals greatly to the elves, and also serves to provide advantages when dealing with supernatural powers.

The swords are made using a process of rhythmatic hammering which follows wondrously complicated and strangely beautiful patterns. These blows set up a vibration in the metal rendering it more ductile and workable then is normally the case in more conventional cold-forging. As a result, the blades can be worked into shapes of great complexity without sacrificing strength.  The relationship of the rhythm to the Song of the Universe is such that all blades made in this manner pick up some of the power of creation.  Of course, this power varies depending on how close the smith’s hammering matches the Song.  The Song is of a rather long duration, and to date, no smith has had the skill and endurance to run it to completion.  The legends say that should a smith of sufficient skill and endurance hammer the Song to completion, the resulting blade will help the Elves in the final battle against Chaos.

All hammered blades are considered heirlooms and are never used as trade goods.  Any in the hands of non-elves are either obtained by happenstance, or as gifts (a truly rare occurence).

Magic/Cursed Properties

All Hammered blades retain an echo of the rhythm of their creation.  At the very least, this imparts a minor sawing action (think vibroblade in sci-fie) which increases the cutting ability of the already razor sharp blade. 

With more powerful blades, this vibration can have other properties above increasing damage.  The pommel can be held against solid objects and impart the vibration to them, shaking loose fasteners, causing corrosion to drop away and generating strange sounds.  When multiple blades are used in this manner, they will produce harmonic effects that will increase the effect.  At upper ends of the power scale, they will cause severe vibration to rigid objects touched, similar in effect to an earthquake.

If a pair of such blades are crossed, the harmonics can be used by the wielder to power enchantments using sound as their basis, though this is stressful to the user and greatly sapping of endurance.

Full Item Description
A simple, even crude spear at first glance, it is not until closer examination that the sheer malevolance of the design of the Legacy of Hatred is fully comprehened. Though the design seems roughly beaten, as if it were flaked, each point, each striation is sharpened to a razor’s edge, though the mottled blade reflects no light to betray this. Its matte surface is discolored, as if it has been soaked in the blood of men and the ichor of monsters, and indeed, it may well have been. This blade is mounted upon a simple shoot of bamboo, strong and ready, despite its dry, splintery shaft, stained with blood where it has bitten the hands of its wielder. The weapon radiates a palpable, malevolant aura - even the blind can sense its presence and it’s rage.

History
It was deep in the southern jungle that Rulakir Slagsoul found, at last, the beginnings of a path, not in the temple of a god or demon, nor in the forge’s flame. Rather, as he rolled from the mattress of a lady of ill repute, his eyes fell upon a rusted knife, and his mind, twisted as it was by the recreational herbs of the jungle, fell upon an idea. It was insane, he knew, but so was he, and his hatred was overwhelming. He would bring the rot of rust to the children of iron…

He lifted up that rusted knife, with its poor edge, and he used it then to slay the wench, revelling in her pain and suffering as she died from the rough, tattered cut. He would remember that pain and suffering.

It was over the next year that the tainted smith slowly pounded every last purity from the knife over the sooty flame of his forge, fueled with the charcoaled bodies of his victims. It was with agonizing effort that he sealed his hatred into each and every crystallite of the steel, even as the scale of rust fell away, and with brutal, calculated, purpose that he shaped it to a weapon even he could wield.

And when he withdrew it from the quenching oils, the dread blade seemed to gleam with blood and ichor, and it writhed with the desire to fulfil it’s PURPOSE. To destroy and corrupt. For though the blade was mindless, soulless, still, the PURPOSE would fill it, and drive it, now and forever. And Rulakir smiled the smile of evil, for he knew that it was joined to his purpose, and that the magics of the world would see to it that it was sufficient to fufill it.

Magic/Cursed Properties
The Legacy of Hatred, in trained and semi trained hands, will function as a spear of incredible enchantment, if and only if the wielder possesses a hatred so strong that he will be willing to die to destroy the object of his obsession. Otherwise, it functions as a simple weapon of moderate and unholy enchantment.

When it acts in the hands of hatred, however, it is much more than significantly effective weapon, but it is after the initial wound that the real effect of the weapon begins to take hold. Wounds caused by both blade and shaft become stigmata, refusing to heal cleanly without potent intervention. Rot and infection are drawn to these wounds, compounding the difficulty of healing. Whenever the wound is open, moreover, the mystical poison of the blade worms its way through the well of the victim’s thoughts, and brings rot and decay there as well. The victim quickly, becomes bitter and cynical, drained of the ability to feel joy and hope. It is a short step from here that many of the other positive emotions begin to decay as well, leaving the victim an empty, distorted shell of a man, as empathy and love abandon him. It is usually during this phase of the toxin that he strikes out at all he once cared for deeply, for it has turned to ash in his mouth. In the final throes of this rot, the injured man is egged on by the poison, for the discharging acts of hatred bring him physical pleasure. Finally, the victim will die of his mind self destructing before the decay of the poison, if the rot and decay of his body has not already killed him.

The sheer power of this weapon’s purpose is such that if it is wielded by one aligned to that purpose, it is capable of piercing even the flesh of a demi-god, though such are far more resistant to the power of the hatred toxin. Those who wield it in opposition to that purpose effectively weaken the power of the spear, though as it bites wielder as well as victim, few resist it for long…

Full Item Description
A gleaming black semi-automatic pistol, Nightfall doesn’t quite identify with any known manufacture. Even the untrained eye can tell that this is both a weapon with a legacy and a weapon that has been cared for; numerous superficial marks scar the surface of the gunmetal, but not sharp edges protrude, each nick having been polished smooth over the years of handling and care. Each angle of the gun bears a fascinating geometric precision to it; each rounding a smooth and somehow sinister arc. Often, it lies within an old leather holster, the material worn and soft with age, but as well-tended as the weapon it holds. Stamped along one side of the holster is a single word, the name of this unique firearm: Nightfall.
History
Nightfall was crafted by a draftsman by the name of Johnathon Cooper, in the days when semi-automatic weapons were first being designed. Revolutionary though the design was, featuring an elegance and cold beauty far beyond a typical firearm, only one was ever made from the plans, as a weapon of vengeance. The woman Johnathon loved, a raven-haired beauty named Debbie Nesmith - or Lady Nightfall among the gossips for her hair and her habit of appearing only at night on someone’s arm - had been gunned down in a crossfire between the bodyguards of the gangster who had taken her as a mistress and a rival from another organization.
Johnathon poured his entire soul into the task of crafting the weapon, bent on avenging a woman who had never known he existed. It wasn’t until he loaded the weapon, however, that Nightfall was truly born - in that moment, the man known as Johnathon Cooper died, replaced solely by the living vengeance he had poured into Nightfall’s creation. His body moved, but there was no soul guiding it, only the terrible will of the weapon as he stalked the streets during the darkness, bringing a bloody end to every thug and bodyguard involved in the firefight, then slipping away in the darkness again.
The last one left on his quest, the gangster who had taken her as mistress, was killed before the eyes of his new mistress; paralyzed by fear, the young woman only watched as the soulless eyes turned to her, and Johnathon spoke his first words since picking the weapon up. "Night falls, and my vengeance is done." Then, guided still by the weapon, he shot himself.
Since then, the weapon has passed through many hands - some taking care of it, others less so. Those who respect Nightfall’s artistry and tend to it seem to be the fortunate ones, able to live after passing the gun on. The less fortunate, those seeing only a tool or another weapon, inevitably destroy themselves with it.
Still, tales float around, of the glistening black firearm with the terrible beauty, and how, for a price, it can gain vengeance for even the most terrible of crimes. Criminal kingpins and government leaders all dismiss it as nonsense, but a few have noticed them looking nervously around while doing so, as if expecting someone to step from the gathering shadows of dusk.
Magic/Cursed Properties
Nightfall is a weapon crafted out of a need for revenge; invested with the entire emotional force of a man grieving for a woman who had never even known he lived, it is a thing of cold fury, predatory rage, and grief, touched with a strange awareness as a unique weapon, without even a single imitator in the world.
If picked up by someone who has no need of revenge, Nightfall is merely an exquisitely crafted firearm, as long as care is taken to keep it well-tended. Those who do not give the firearm the respect it is due as something unique find that it seems to shift wherever it happens to be laying, such that it always points at them, muzzle-first. Many of these owners soon hurriedly pass it on; those that don’t find that the finely honed trigger is a little too much on the hair side, as a spontaneous bump causes it to go off - some even say without a round in the chamber, and almost always fatally, as the gun claims vengeance for the disrespect.
When picked up by someone in need of vengeance, however, Nightfall awakens to the purpose it was made for. The wielder becomes a creature of darkness, able to hide in almost any shadow and gifted with a near superhuman degree of stealth. The wielder gains the ability to track those who are guilty of the crimes that caused them to crave revenge in the first place, as acutely as a bloodhound tracking a wounded animal. Their ability with the weapon is masterful, each shot placed with terrible accuracy.
When the quest of vengeance is done, however, Nightfall demands a price - vengeance for each of those murdered by the wielder. Guided by the weapon’s will, each user almost inevitably claims his or her own life.
Plot Hooks
-Nightfall has been found by someone who feels slighted somehow by one of the PCs; can they stop the wielder of the gun before Nightfall claims the PC’s life?
-A rash of killings have begun; Nightfall has been found again, and this time it is held by a man who feels that everyone else is responsible for the misfortune in his life.
-The original plans for Nightfall have turned up; creating another weapon from these plans would destroy the weapon’s power as something unique, making it no more than an exquisitely crafted and well-tended firearm. Nightfall can sense this, and so compels the current owner to hunt down the person who has the firearm’s plans.
-Perhaps one of the PCs needs vengeance for something, when they come into to ownership of the gun. Can their friends prevent them from becoming a victim of the gun’s terrible design, another bloody mark in the weapon’s history of violence?
-Nightfall has fallen into the party’s hands, and they’ve been warned to destroy it before it destroys them. Can they do it without the gun killing them first? Will they pass it on to someone else and perpetuate the history of death and bloodshed, or will they try to truly rid the world of it?

Description
Serivemn ( Sair-iv-m, the n is silent)
At first glance it looks like a waster sword, (wooden practice sword) approximately 30-40cm long and can be as wide as a man’s hand, at the blades girth. The blade is potted and gnarled with marks and scars and looks like a resin encrusted, dense matt of fibres.
The sword is light in comparison to simple wood but very strong. Its single edge, is not as sharp or thin as its steel counterparts, relying more so on a chemical, to etch and burn its way through organic materials.
Its ability, to allow, non organic, items to, phase through its blade, is by far the sword’s most outstanding property.

A Serivemn, is a living plant or at least part of it is. Its ‘lignophilic’ (latin -biology, thriving in or on wood) In the hands of a non-[Vissealists], the sword is but a piece of wood and if not cared for, would die and become brittle. The [Vissealists] keep its creation and care, like most things, in a furtive manner. We know there is an emotional bond, between owner and sword. A unique emotional print, that the sword recognises in its owner. It ‘tastes’ these emotions from its owner, as electro-chemical signals, through its hilt. Using emotions, the owner can provoke certain chemicals, thus controlling the two most important aspects of the sword.

Phase Through
The most outstanding property of the sword, is its ability to allow things, typically weapons, to magically ‘pass through’ its blade. Under control of its owner, it can present itself in its default, solid, state or allow non organics to phase through, like a corporeal encounter.
Electro-chemical signals flow from hilt to blade tip, reactions to such signals, within the blade, cause vibration and separation of the molecules. The loosening of the molecules is localised to the entry point of the foreign matter. It grows like a tear, from the impact area and closes back upon itself, as the item passes through.
The age of a Serivemn or at least, its encounters with battle, can be determined by the number of scars found along its blade. Each time it is torn and reassembles itself, there is some mismatching of the molecules. This is what creates the various marks and scar like tissue formations.

Chemical acid cutting
Under its owner’s command an acid like moisture forms in minute beads along the blade’s edge. These chemicals tend to burn their way through organic materials, rather than cut. Like the phase through aspect, these secretions are controlled by electro-chemical signals, from the owner, through the swords hilt.

In the hands of a skilled master it is quite possible for the blade to phase through an enemies thin body armour, reassemble on the other side, secrete its chemicals, producing a painful penetration into skin and bone. 

History
The Serivemn was always thought to posses magic. Their owner’s, the Vissealists, are a non aggressive and secretive society. On the odd occasion when these people did react to aggression, application of the weapon looked magical. Quickly and expertly reducing their foe’s to a quivering, painful wreck.
It is believed to be the only item that has ever been extricated from the Yinnal Canopy. The sword is an indication, that there may indeed be, some interaction or historic link between the Vissealists, their vissewort plants and the Yinnal Canopy. Rumours suggest the sword is made from a Yinnal tree root surrounded by living Yinnal Vine. The Yinnal tree dates back to the beginning of time itself and with it, possibly, so does the sword. The Yinnal Vine certainly secretes caustic substances , this may explain the fundamentals of the sword’s ability to chemically cut. As for its ability to phase, one is not sure if this is, extreme science or simply magic.

Story example
Broad shouldered and trained in combat, Methnik eyed his opponent. "This would be all too easy" he thought to himself. The individual before him, looked to defend himself with only two, beaten up, old waster swords. Methnik raised his claymore, he felt its weight, its power, he could see the steel glint in the light. His claymore would break those sticks of wood, slice his foe in half from head to foot and all in one swipe. His foe raised the wooden swords in a cross formation, in front of and above his face. "You mock me sir" cried Methnik, as he stepped forward, adding his body weight to the downward blow. Aiming with all his strength, his blade to splinter the crossed swords at their intersection. His foe moved adeptly sideways, as if in some dance, the crossed swords moving to his left, surely a feeble attempt to deflect the claymores arc. The swords clashed, but not as expected. Methnik’s blade slipped through the waster swords like magic, as if they weren’t there at all. No sound of shatter, no eruption of splintered wood. The blade scrapped only upon his foes left sword, which angled the blow towards the floor. The right sword, the cross, gave no check to the blow at all, his blade just slipped through like a ghost. Some magicians trick? The weight he had thrown into his sword’s swing, was now working against him, his bodies momentum now pulled by the sword’s trajectory. He toppled off balance, forward, as the claymore dug deep into the ground, with a dampened clunk. Methnik’s eyes met his foe’s, they were almost face to face, his foe’s wooden toy sword, the right one, the one he surely should have decapitated, hovered just below his neck. Methnik’s momentum was still carrying him forward, his head, neck and chest propelled by his initial thrust. Within inches of his foe’s sword now, Methnik’s eyes took in the gnarled and scarred surface of the wooden blade, its edge looked wet, gleaming with minute droplets. All too late, the blade was at his neck, it burnt, stinging like acid, it slivered through his 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 he thought? "Your last lesson in this life. Your teacher? A Serivemn"

Full Item Description
A Sigle Sword is a short cutlass with a glowing, amythest -inlaid sigil or sigils (up to a naximum of three) set into the hilt where the weapon is held to protect them from blows that might break them.

History
The Sigil Swords were created by a young wizard with a son who had joined the navy of Big Red.Wanting to keep his son safe he took some of the spare amythest and carved a small sigil into the sword, causing it to glow brightly in the dark, bright enough to read by. Others wanted such swords for their sons and the wizard grew rich making them.
They were welcomed and adopted by the officers and NCO’s as they benifited the armed forces as a whole.

Magic/Cursed Properties
The sigils are small and their powers are strictly limited. Furthermore to gain power these sigils must be blessed by a parent or a parent’s child or a lover, and each person can only bless one sigil. Should the one who blessed the sigil die or start hating the person who he or she blessed the sigil for, the sigil will lose it’s power.The power of the sigil is caused by the love that the one who blessed it has for the one who will carry the sigil on his weapon.

Each weapon may have a maximum of three sigils, both because of the way they are enchanted and because if there is more then one sigil it interferes with the others-more then three on one weapon cancel each other out totally. So a sword with only one sigil will be able to do one thing well whilst one with three sigils has three weak powers.

Such powers include glowing at night, dealing harder damage in a fight, growing warmer when danger threatens, ect. Anything too flashy is discouraged by the military and naval authorities. These are not wonder weapons, but they are a help and a morale booster to their users. Should one of these swords be captured or stolen from it’s owner it will lose any magical powers that it has.

A few of the sigals and their powers

*-makes the weapon glow in darkness
)-adds speed to the weapon’s strikes
&-makes the weapon less likely to break on combat
^-keeps the blade sharp
$-makes it look better then it is
!-makes the holder braver in battle

Magic weapons are a staple of fantasy gaming, and for every Excaliber and Zodiac Spear, there are legions of mundane magic weapons, the innocuous Longsword +1 and other magical weapons only expressed as a weapon type and a bonus modifier. While such a display is anathema to fantasy writing, it is quite standard par for the adventure gaming course. While the notion of every magical weapon having a grand backstory, a mythical origin, and a hard to pronounce name, most of this is likely to fall by the wayside as the rugged band of heroes hack their way to gold, glory, and XP.

A Sword With No Name
Heroes wield mighty blades hammered by the gods, PCs tend to get a bit less unless games are incredibly high level or high powered. Descriptions of blades very by the type and style of sword, but certain aspects remain the same. The most common aspect being that the weapon in question is made of the best quality materials and is of the top quality the weapon maker in question is capable of. Apprentice work, flawed blades, and the like do not make it past the rigours of testing before the process of enchantment and bonding takes place. The second aspect that is similar is the presence of some sort of arcane script etched, carved, embossed, or otherwise made a permanent part of the blade. It doesn’t matter if it is runes, elfin poetry, geomantic sigils, or eldritch symbols of power, the end effect is the same, a bonus modifier to attack and damage.

A Weapon of Two Worlds
Most fantasy settings work with some sort of multi-planar cosmology, ranging from a simple duality, to a wide spread cornucopia of planar realms running from elemental realms to exotic pockets of reality. The true purpose of the arcane script etched into the weapon is that it creates a bond to this spirit and energy filled alternate realm, a conduit for the natural flow of magic. This makes the weapon in question real in both the material world and the spirit world. As such, a wound inflicted by the weapon is able to overcome magical and supernatural abilities, penetrate normally impenetrable armor, and cause more damage than would be expected.

The power of the weapon is determined by the skill of the etcher or engraver who works the arcane writing into the weapon. The more skill and time they invest into the etching or engraving, the more potent the weapon in question. It is very likely that the actual empowering symbols will be surrounded by ornamental symbols, artful etching and the like. Some of this is purely ornamental, the other aspect is that it prevents someone from merely looking at the length of the engraving on a weapon and determining the magical strength of the weapon.

Who Makes These Things?
Mundane magic weapons might not actually be considered magical weapons, since they do not evince any sort of magical ability other than a magical aura and increased ability to do damage. As such, these weapons could be made by practitioners of Low Sorcery. True magi would hardly consider making such lowly weapons beneath their ability, leaving the making of these weapons in the hands of enlightened weaponsmiths and enchanters of the Low Sorcery method. As such a village with a decent forge could have one or two of these class of weapons, heirlooms of masters of the forge, or possessions of the local gentry and lower echelons of the nobility.

Applications of Force
You Can Have it, But it Will Cost You - Sometimes a player and subsequent PC will want a large and nasty beat-stick for taking down monsters and getting XP from large and nasty foes. Such a weapon can be procured without all the drama of hunting down a legendary weapon, dispelling curses and all the other baggage that comes with getting such an awesome and likely broken weapon. The PC/Player can commission a Sword +3, or Sword +5 but there are two things that can constrain said player. The first being that such a weapon will remain expensive, likely several thousand gold pieces to tens of thousands of gold pieces to cover the materials and labor of both a master bladesmith and a master enchanter of low sorcery. Secondly, such a weapon will take time, 1D4 + 1 Month/per level of power. The PC is saddled with both a large bill, and subsequent downtime waiting for the weapon to be made.

Tough, But Not Unbreakable - Magic Swords don’t get broken, and in the rare cases where they do (Narsil/Anduril) it is a legend worthy tale behind their reforging. A common Sword +3 can be broken, and while it is a blow to character, it isn’t derailing to the story, plot, or history of an established setting.

Appearance
The weapon known as the Celestial Gavel is a heavy, impressive-looking mace.  The shaft of the mace is a full meter long, made of a whitish steel engraved with ten flutes, tapering outward toward the mace head.  The head itself is made of a darker, bluish metal and is rectangular in shape, about a foot tall and half as wide.  On each face of the rectangle are four large pointed bosses arranged in two rows, made from the same metal as the shaft.  The top of the mace has another, larger boss.

History/Background
Eons ago, during the Empyrean-Infernal War, the demon servants of Vautu sought to create a weapon to turn the tide of the fierce warfare.  The Archsmith Teztrazal was ordered to forge the vile weapon or face annihilation into Vautu’s devouring mouth.  Forged out of fear and hate, Teztrazal created a tool of fearsome destruction: the Seraph Hammer.  A maul of unimaginable strength, it is said that Vautu himself oversaw its completion.  Teztrazal was consumed after its creation to ensure its secrets were forgotten, and the Seraph Hammer felled many an angel in the hands of the demonic forces.  The tide of the war would soon turn again, and Saint Ajor the Archangel - the Strong Arm of Dalraaen - stormed the demonic forge and seized the Hammer.  St. Ajor saw that the weapon was built with dark energies, hexes, and curses; indeed, it was so magically built that it could not be destroyed.  Thus the Archangel carried the weapon to the Heavens where he reforged it, straightening the twisted spells and bleaching white the blackness of its evil.  After weeks of work, the weapon emerged from the forge anew.  It was a long mace, a steel block marked on each side with pointed bosses, attached to a column-like tapered handle.  Ajor called the weapon the Celestial Gavel in honor of his patron Dalraaen.  The weapon turned the tide of the war, and the forces of the Hells were defeated several decades later.

After the Order of Dalraaen rose, Saint Ajor entrusted the weapon to the Sacred Judiciary to defend the Order from heretics and enemies.  The problem with the Gavel, however, was that due to the warped mix of magics within it, it was impossibly heavy to wield effectively.  Only a one living person could wield the Gavel, according to Ajor, one called the Guardian.  What the Archangel could not say was who the Guardian was.  Thus for decades it resided in the Sacred Judiciary’s court as a symbol of their authority.  The Judiciary eventually deemed it too important to leave idly, and thus founded the Order of the Gavel for its protection and the protection of all Dalraaenites.  A Warden by the name of Jaipur Norel was appointed the Grand Master of this paladinic order.  At the opening ceremony in the Sacred Judiciary’s court, Norel shocked all - even himself - when, while lifting the Gavel as part of the ceremony, it rose easily in his hand.  Instead of the usual 250 pound weight, the Celestial Gavel was no heavier than a short sword to Norel.  The Judiciary sang a praise to Dalraaen, for they knew what had happened: they found the Guardian.

Though there was no war to be fought, Warden (and later Magistrate) Grand Master Norel wore the Celestial Gavel as a symbol of his authority and the strength of the Order.  After his passing, it was granted to the next Grand Master, who unfortunately was not an apparent Guardian.  In order to find the next Guardian, the Grand Master modified the ceremony of initiation, requiring each initiate to lift the Gavel.  This way, he reasoned, the true Guardian could be found easily, for Dalraaen would surely not make a non-paladin the only one capable of wielding the Gavel.  Unfortunately, this is apparently exactly what Dalraaen intended.  Another Guardian would not be found for two generations.  At the time of the Sectarian Wars, there is fortunately a Guardian: the head of the Order of the Gavel, Magistrate Grand Master Baeleric Kytherion.

All know the story of the Gavel’s creation.  However, few know its deeper nature; indeed, not even Saint Ajor was aware of what lurks beneath the steel and spells of the Celestial Gavel.  This weapon is a vessel for Vautu’s power.  Years before St. Ajor stormed the demonic forge, Vautu knew the tide of the Empyrean-Infernal Wars was turning against him; his dark angels were spread too thin, the Heavens’ forces too strong.  Though his armies might fail, Vautu refused to die.  He extracted from himself his own heart and had it forged into a weapon.  Onto this weapon he placed many spells, curses, hexes, and darkness, wrapping the maul in evil so dense it could not be destroyed.  No matter what may happen, he swore, this weapon would survive.  This extraction of himself weakened Vautu, and the tide turned quickly.  When Saint Ajor reforged the Seraph Hammer into the Celestial Gavel, he was blind to the depth and nature of the dark weapon.  Even as he sanctified the Gavel, making it a holy weapon eternally tied to Dalraaen, Vautu’s heart remained.  It waits, and watches.

Magic/Cursed Properties
The Celestial Gavel is quite large for an average human, and almost impossibly heavy to wield.  The only one that can wield it properly is the Guardian, only one of whom can exist at one time.  Each Guardian is predestined by Dalraaen, often chosen to carry on some great task.  The Guardian may or may not know of their particular vocation; they may not even be a Dalraaenite.  In the hands of the proper Guardian, however, the Gavel is a powerful weapon.  It focuses and strengthens any clerical spells, and deals holy damage against all creatures aligned with chaos or evil.  Its very presence repels wicked beings.

If one were to unlock its true identity, however - the identity of Vautu’s own essence - the weapon would become a unimaginably evil tool.  Scant few know of the weapon’s truth, however; some say only the Paragon of the Cultus himself knows it, and even then would find it impossible to access.  Until that dark day, the Celestial Gavel serves the Order of Dalraaen.

Full Item Description
You have discovered a blade, hidden beneath layer upon layer of mouldering sackcloth in the back of this storehouse where an ancient wall collapsed. It is fine sword, a blade fit for a nobleman, simple in make and without ornament, with a straight haft, a thick but impeccably-balanced guard and a shining blade with a slight but noticeable curve which comes to a gleaming point. Despite being buried within the ancient, crumbling brickwork and shrouded in oily rotten wrappings, it shines as if newly forged and polished. When turned blade-on, it can barely be seen. It is probably the most well-balanced sword you have ever held, but there is no doubt in your mind that it is the sharpest.

You have found one of the legendary Fatal Swords of antiquity.

History
In the ancient days, there were created several hundreds of the magical blades known as Fatal Swords. Wielded by many of the warriors now idolized as heroes of the legendary eras, these swords have become legendary in their own right. Though over the ages they were lost and forgotten, some destroyed through supernatural means, the tales of their fateful powers remained, as well as the tales of their creation. Some reports of Fatal Swords (or blades suspected of being Fatal Swords) have surfaced over the years. One was known to have been wielded by Ar Ghan The Head-Taker, King of the Toghan Reaches, in his adventures before his ascent to kingship. The sword known as the Mighty One is suspected of having been one of these blades. It was wielded as an execution tool for the dispatching of the Empire’s greatest foes and traitors for centuries by the Imperial Executioners of the Emperor of Xi Kah (it was lost during the sacking of the Imperial City by the Beetle-Faced Shangarr during the Shangarr Wars in that country).

Only the most powerful of the primotologist-smiths of the heroic age created Fatal Swords, and while many extremely fine ancient swords were made that far surpass those of the modern era, only a few hundred Fatal Swords were ever forged. Siu the Swordsmith, of whom legends speak of as the "un-man" master of the Swordsmiths Of The Yazda Wastes, created at least 40, but possibly as many as 70, and is remembered in myth as the finest swordsmith in recorded history (some say greater, even, then the Forge God himself).

Magic/Cursed Properties
The Fatal Swords are called so simply because they are fatal in battle. If the swordsman wielding it can at least handle a blade without cutting himself, the Fatal Sword cannot fail to cut its target. The mystical properties of the Fatal Sword are such that wielding a Fatal Sword against an opponent will always result in the severing of either a limb or a head, more commonly the latter- the blade instinctively seeks not surface cuts or cuttings, but the separation of extremities from the body. The Fatal Sword cuts through armor and shields like butter, and even stone is cut by its strike. It is a non-negotiable property- the wielder of a Fatal Sword cannot forebear from severing a part from the target- thus, the sword should not be used against any who the wielder wishes only to subdue or beat into submission. The Sword’s employment will result in death or at the very least incapacitation by removal of limbs. The blade makes a distinctive noise (possibly approximated by the onomatopoetic "snick-snack") as it cuts, the sound of the air itself being parted.

The magic of the Fatal Sword is not imparted by direct enchantment, but by virtue of its creation. The process of creating a Fatal Sword requires a feat which modern swordsmiths consider ludicrously impossible- during forging, the metal of the blade must be folded one-million times.

This folding impacts metal into metal so minutely and so thoroughly that within the blade, the metal realigns into post-physical currents, opening the pleromatic voids within and behind all things. What this means, essentially, is that the blade is made so thoroughly that a part of the essence of a sword, the primordial pre-standing cosmic idea of a sword, is imparted as an echo into the sword. Thus, the Fatal Sword is the closest that nearly any sword can come to being the ideal killing tool.

Notes:
This is for What Makes A Weapon Magic Quest as well as the New Takes On Classic Magic Items submission. It is essentially a re-working of the good ol’ vorpal sword to represent the totally awesome badassness of the idea of vorpal sword (a sword that automatically beheads the target? Holy shit!).

I hate this work.

The cycle of nature is no stranger to me, the often brutal necessities survival demands. I have hunted down and killed animals, avoiding cruelty. I have eaten their flesh. These are not animals, not even whole plants. Just parts. They are not even alive to begin with.

And yet, this bothers me more than killing beasts or intelligent creatures. Some days, it feels like I can hear them screaming.

Creation
When finished, the arrows don’t look very different, perhaps a little paler than your generic wooden sort, as if a little frost was left on them from the early morning. Skilled archers know the difference, but they are rarely marked with different feathers or paint: this variety is cold to the touch.

The Elves make them only in deep winter. The wood is left to freeze outside, over and over. As the bark is slowly stripped away, the piece is drenched in water, and left to freeze again, day after day. Mystical phrases are uttered, words meant to heal and restore, they vary as those who make use of them. The wood is allowed to rest, then cruel winter bites into it. And the process continues - parting into shafts, all the adjusting, adding the vanes, and so on.

Meanwhile, the wood has been frozen to cold death and restored many times; less than a third will come out of the process in a usable form. For the makers, it is a long, tiring work. But the result seems worth it, just be sure to employ them before next winter… they will not bear another.

Magic/Cursed Properties

In shooting, it is a weak magical missile (it can be your generic +1 arrow). But if it hits living matter, it becomes more. The suffering of winter cannot be born anymore, the wood warps and splits like it should at its birth, likely increasing the damage caused, and making the removal a horrible mess. Besides the pain caused by the wound itself, the biting cold it absorbed is discharged, potentially shocking the victim to its core.

The arrow is sometimes called Rank-Breaker, and if used correctly it can shake even massive war beasts, normally impervious to little wooden sticks.