Collection of guild daggers.
“So, my sisters.” I gazed out the clerestory window at the tableau in Court Square, and I made no doubt my gaze was as stony as were the rest of the Conclave. “I see what you see. Is there truly no doubt?”
“None,” said Mother Arathena, with a bitter hiss. “That jackal bitch has the true Sword. Captain Noran saw her hack through half the enemy cohort to reach the postern gate, and I know Noran to be a reliable man.” She swallowed hard, tearing her gaze away from the spectacle outside. “But – but how? How was It found, after so long?”
“Lady’s Grace, who cares? Dueled with dragons or bought it from a peddler, what boots it? The question is this: what do we do?” Arathena's mouth was set, at my query; she didn’t know. Neither did the others.
Neither did I.
Suddenly an east wind blew, and far above the clouds rolled and folded. Where there were once whisps of white there was now a long cloud formed in the shape of a recurved bow. Malakh bowed her head in humility. "That which you have asked is granted you, O Warrior."
...Vaakri reached and stretched, grasping at the sky. At first he seized nothing, but his heart was filled with the Empyrean Emir's winds and light, and finally he grasped the bow from the far sky and drew it to the earth.
- The legend of Vaakri
Fo Derarer Agger / The Conqueror Armor
Pavise: a full-body concave shield used to by medieval archers as defensive walls while reloading.
Pavisade: archaic term. a row of shields hung on the side of a ship to protect it at war and discourage boarding by enemies
Gather your hatred about you, and master it, my brothers. It is the strength behind your shield, the speed of your blade. Do not abandon it, for without it, you are empty indeed.
The Unyielding Rage
A tiny ampoule of steel and old, clotted blood, hung from a black iron chain, the Amulet of Dark Valor holds the drive of the furies.
The teeth and fingerbones of holy men and more
The Dwarves are often thought to be a greedy and miserly race, but there are times when they will give rewards to those who have genuinely earned them.
(OOC-I added the names of all those who did submissions but only mine has shown up, for some reason. The others are the following; axlerowes, Echomirage, Ancient Gamer ,Dossta , Pariah.)
The Sword of Huran is the chosen weapon of The Order of the Spellswords. Each one of them crafts their own Sword of Huran to serve them in their battles for the king.
Drink deep from the Moon-Cup, let its powers quench your thirst, or even save your marriage.
A shaft of golden solid light; a powerful artifact of all that is good and holy. This staff is the bane of evil and the boon of justice.
The Armour of the Pure was meant to try and prevent war crimes and ensure that the honour of Queen Yocasta's army was whiter then white, but the prototype did not work as it was supposed to, and was discarded in some disgust.
No nose, hardly any body, a terrible wine, really.
This relic, while of little value against the living, is a formidable tool against the beasts from beyond.
Forged from the light of the first dawn, of the world, it remains radiant even now, long ages after…
Brumborion’s blade, the fang of the north, ice razor, the glacial sword, Givone’s Favor
It was Young Jim’s first battle. He was known for being a tireless worker in the field and a very patriotic young man. But he didn’t understand this strange armor they put him in… And he didn’t know it would be the Last Armor he ever wore.
The last masterpiece of master fletcher Jugan of the Lorug Phreng
Swords are deliverers of death to the living. This one offers something more to those already dead…
An ancient relic of a long-dead hero and a link to the divine
Once every decade on the eve of St. Poskov's Day during mid-winter, the coastal city of Tiyabon experiences a horrific event. Quool's Tide rolls in, depositing hundreds of bloated, fish-eaten corpses upon the pebbly shores of Tiyabon's wide bay. This singularity is to this day unexplained, though countless theories abound. It is said for example, that these corpses are not eaten by the myriad fish of the seas completely, due to the fear all creatures of the seas hold for Quool.
Named for Quool, a terrible, antediluvian god of seas and storms, who no longer exists for he has no worshipers, the Tide chokes the beaches and surf with the countless rotting bodies of those who had perished at sea in a violent way.
Almost immediately, the lifeless corpses are fed upon by crabs, gulls, and worse things that await the horrid feast. The townsfolk let nature take it course with disinterested disgust, though lately some enterprising adventurers have taken to searching along the beaches of flesh for former deceased companions, with intentions of raising them again!
Surprisingly no undead ever rise from among the many corpses. This is also a mystery.