Her true name name, now, is lost to the ravages to time, at least among the populace. Many were the titles she held in life. The Dark Valor. The Unyeilding Rage. The Black Mercy. While it is possible that deep within their myths and writings are the tiny details of her adventures, what is remembered is that she once stood at the forefront of the venerable adventure's guild, the Poison Arrow. Lithe and slight, little of the Tier'Dal's body would have suggested that she would be one to stand toe to toe with the avatars of the Gods themselves, and to trade blows with dragons and devils, but yet, that dark knight did. Her tiny frame filled with fury and hatred, driving her ever onwards, driving massive blows from her out-sized sword, absorbing blows that would have felled an ogre six times her size. Her words and gestures, too, filled with the fire of that dark emotion, amplifying the power of her black magics, granting her the power to drive their enemies to madness with their rage towards her, and to drive her fellows onwards. 

For over five decades, the dark elf led them from the front, turning a cold and powerful fury upon their foes, yet only once turning it upon one of their own, a traitor to their ranks. They believed that she would stand there forever. Yet, even the cleric's magic cannot heal the wounds of time, and in her time, the battered, scarred shadow knight fell from age, and no sorcery could return her. 

In order to preserve a tiny portion of their leader, the necromancers who performed her funerary rites drew forth several drops of her heart's blood, and sealed it within an amulet of steel, ever to be passed down within Poison Arrow. What those bearers received was a surprise even to them.


The Amulet of Dark Valor's enchantments, sourced in the blood it contains, holds several powers. 

Hate, Fear, Love, Devotion? Who among you can understand the nature of their mirrors? Who among you can truly claim to have felt the depths of them all? 
-- The Dark Valor

First, some hours after the amulet is donned, the emotions of the bearer are amplified manifold, both dark and light inseperably alike. The feelings conjured by the smallest of slights are as great as the deepest treasons were before donning the amulet, and those treasons will now provoke a rage as hot as fires of Ro and as deep as the reefs of Marr. The smallest of complements, meanwile, provoke the exctasy of love, and the bearers love becomes the object of the greatest of poets. To learn to control ones self in the face of this has become known as the Trial of the Mirror, and the great who don the amulet fail it, hurling themselves blindly about until it is the death of them, or else driven to a gibbering madness. 

It screams. It pulls, it demands. That is the nature of what she gave us. Nothing could stop us, for what doubt could we hear? 

Some days later, should the bearer retain their life and mind, they gain the ability to inflict hatred and fear upon and drain those dark emotions from first individuals, and later, as they master it, groups, small at first, then many, choosing at the onset the focus of those emotions, using it to focus the attention of their foes, and to drive their allies to greater and greater heights.

To the last I grapple with thee; from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee.
-- Captain Ahab

Finally, not less than one month from donning the amulet, the final strength of the amulet becomes available to the user. Should it become soaked in the wearer's own blood, it will empower them with rage, their flesh becoming as tough and impervious as steel, for as long as the wearer can fuel that hatred, exhausting though it is. When it fails, so shall they, sinking into a faint for at least twice as long as they bore the rage.

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