Full Item Description

The dual short swords, Warprender and Weftcleaver are difficult for the eye to look upon, for although they themselves are straight and simple blades, in an ancient pattern otherwise relegated to the museum, the light that passes over them seems somehow wrong and painful to the human eye, the image of them twisted and ever shifting with every photon they reflect. The damascene lines of the blades seem to twist and dance in a strange and unnatural non-euclidean hypergeometry, and to stare into them for too long may well drive a man mad if he attempts to comprehend those shapes.

History
Rebirthed into this brave new world, where man strode the stars, weak and shorn of his worshippers, Adan Ironspirit knew that for a time he would need a protector, unable as he was to draw upon the fullness of his divine power. And so he gave his instructions to his grandson, Kir, and waited, knowing that so long as he was alive, one would gain the courage to wear the scale.

Though those directions surprised and faintly shocked Kir, he knew well to follow them, recognizing the source of his extraordinary skills. An anvil he improvised, a conduit became a furnace, and a hammer he had appropriated, and he began to work, twisting and pounding the steel and its additives the way his ancestors had for thousands of years, enveloping only the anvil and blade within a twisting bubble of hyperspace as he did so. A dash of titanium. A shot of carbide. A pinch of neutronium. By instinct alone he built the weapons, letting his Grandfather’s wish flow through him as he did so, to stabilize the impossible alloy.

And then, they were born, and he handed them over to his Grandfather, even as he named them Warprender and Weftcleaver, for even the naked eye could see how they were sharp enough to cleave the fabric of space behind them, and how the universe bled light where they passed… They would merely have to wait for the one able to wield them.

Magic/Cursed Properties

Warprender and Weftcleaver are distantly akin to the vorpal blades of old, possessed of a terrible sharpness and incredible hardness and strength. No material alone can resist the weapons, as they rend apart the very space that holds it together. Wounds, too, are terrible, exposed as they are for a moment to absolute nothingness, making a mess of the flesh that they pass through. Some forms of energy shielding, however, are able to deflect the blades, their twisting of space through the basic forces altering the paths of the blades as well as they would any other object.

As they arc, Warprender and Weftcleaver twist and writhe as they follow their own nearly incomprehensible patterns of motion, leaving glowing trails behind them when they are wielded with intent to harm, mere motion not quite enough to activate their bizarre geometries. Because of this odd motion, they are exceedingly difficult to wield, yielding only to the most dedicated of swordsmen. Those particularly unable to adapt to these patterns may even find the blades cleaving their own flesh as they fail to adjust.