Full Item Description
The guard slips over and covers the hand completely, inside the guard is the handle which goes straight across guard and allows the hand a firm grip. Fastening just above the wrist, it removes the weakness of wrist often suffered by novices or after long battles.
The style of blade ranges from dagger or dirk to broadsword, maybe long depending on the strength of the user. Usually custom made for the user, this sword hinders mobility while adding a small amount of range, and a more stable grip.
Often just called a glavus, this weapon has often found its way into many armies, and some warriors even use it on their shield arm preferring to have extra range without losing the mobility in their sword arm.
“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
Paladrim was a renowned swordsman. The head of many armies in his time, choosing never to serve a king, saying no king shall ever be greater that his master. Often simply wandering into the middle of a battle field just to fell anyone that struck at him, he was soon called a mad man, but no one ever knew it was his lust to return home that made him fight. Soon all across the land the name of Paladrim was known, and was whispered like that of a myth.
The myth as some called him was often simply looking for an equal or better, ever searching for that someone. The day he lost his right hand was indeed a sad day for him, for it was the hand on his sword arm the arm that would find him home. That fateful day, was the day that he found his equal, the day he should have died. But his life was spared by this equal, but seemed as if it had ended his hand was gone his sword arm useless, and never would he get home for enough blood had not been shed.
He had wandered, and wandered seeming as if nothing would ever bring him out of his slump. He never again turned to Ares for if enough blood had not been shed then his prayer would not be heard. One day he found a black smith working on a new sword or so he thought, but what would soon became the glavus, for you see the black smith was no good with a sword and every time his sword was struck he dropped it, so by developing the glavus (as it is now known) he found a was to reduce his weakness.
Being in the right place at the right time never seemed more real to Paladrim, for he was now able to fight again and maybe return home, and he had some one to train with to get used to this new weapon. Back to being the fear of armies again he wielded the glavus until his dying days when he could barely lift his own arm. He never returned home, Ares never answered his prayer.
The king that had given lodge to Paldrim housed him in the finest of mausoleums, built to look like the pantheon house of the greek gods, that he often talked of. On the front of the house the message “Thus I served and thus I died, but ever I will remain the servent of war.”