Fantasy Roleplay at Belariath > Special Items

Special Items

History:
Serath the Aeromancer was elated when a warrior found his way to his island. He had lost count of how many years had passed since his last meeting with any human. The warrior's boat was destroyed in a storm and his battered body washed up on the shore of the island, where Serath found him and nursed him back to health. When the warrior awoke he did not know how to thank Serath for his generosity and could do nothing more than offer the axe he carried on his back. It was a family heirloom to him, a sentimental token to the fighter. Serath accepted the gift graciously and in return began to teach the young and nameless warrior the sacred arts of air magics that he had been perfecting over the years. He realized that it was his only chance to pass on his knowledge before the sands of time claimed his life. Like most aging men, Serath dearly longed to leave something behind that he could be remembered by. When Serath began to teach him how to harness the power of air magics while using his axe, the young warrior could not master the complexities involved, specially in one of the more powerful motions that Serath called the "Whirlwind Battle Dance". Slowly time continued to pass and Serath knew the end was near. In the last few days of his life, he knew that the only way to pass on his skill to the axe-wielder was through enchantments. He took the warrior's axe and retreated from the island, flying high into the sky far above the warrior and eventually out of his sight. He spent days nestled within the clouds while working his precious talent, enchanting the axe with all his essence and his magical knowledge. No one knew what happened to Serath as he never descended from those clouds. The warrior realized that something was wrong when he heard a loud CRACK from outside of the cabin. When he ran out to see for himself, Serath's robes were fluttering down and fell at his feet. A glint caught his eye and he saw his axe burried halfway in the soft sand of the beach. Stricken with sorrow at losing his only company, the warrior spent years training with the weapon as it was the only thing he could do to pass the time. As he did so, he slowly learned more and more about the weapon that had taken on such odd traits. Found of reading and writing, the warrior began to log his thoughts in a diary that Serath had given him. The more he learned the more he wrote down. The warrior's notes are now left somewhere within the mage's ancient home on a distant island. As to the axe and the whereabouts, it is left on the island, awaiting a new master to navigate to its buried place to claim it. Note: The word "heavens" used in the write-up refers to the skies; it has no connotations for the concept of a heaven in the Belariathan world and should not be miscontrued.

White Weapon

Owned By: Eucep

Type of Item: Weapon

Equipment Slots Used: 0

Description:
The White Weapon is exactly what it seems: a simple hilt, commonplace and ordinary-looking unless closely examined. Upon examination any competent smith (or even incompetent smith) will scratch their head and wonder what the hell it is made of. While it looks like a common-place material, the hilt is made of a substance that is unidentifiable. No matter what is done to the handle, it cannot be marred, scratched or damaged in any way. This stays the same no matter what form the Weapon takes

Powers:
Sunbeam (2 Slots OOB):

If the White Weapon has been charging in daylight for at least four hours it can either expend this energy in one minute long sunlight intense beam of 5x5x100 yards, or glow like a torch for 4 hours. This beam of light or torch is dependent on the time spent within direct sunlight, and if for whatever purpose the weapon is kept indoors or underground for longer than 24 hours, the ability is non-effective until brought back under the sun’s rays. This has no effect in battle, and is strictly OOB.

Holy Light (2 Slots OOB):

The White Weapon can decide to heal a character on its own. Both the wielder as well as others it deems in need and deserving. It expels a soft lustrous radiance up to thirty feet in diameter that envelops either the wielder or the other, knitting minor wounds and damage.

Mechanics: It cannot re-grow limbs, but heals one time a day up to a maximum of 40 life points all together. This cannot be used however if the White Weapon has been kept out of daylight or moved underground for longer than three days; however if this does happen, moving the weapon back into direct sunlight for an equivalent period will recharge its abilities. Out of Battle use only. OOC Consent required.

Radiant Nimbus (1 Slot OOB):

While drawn the weapon gives a slight shimmer to the caster, leaving them a shining beacon wherever they are. This is a permanent effect whenever the White Weapon is wielded, dimming only when the wielder is in the midst of battle; or losing the effect all together if the White Weapon is driven underground or out of view from daylight for longer than two days or more. Out-of-Battle only.

Shape Altering (2 Slots Combat)

The White Weapon to many and in its immediate form remains to be the hilt of a sword or battle axe, laced in some unknown metal, with a base of 5. It's ability to alter its outward shape starts at the hilt, allowing it take the appearance of a sword, axe or even a whip for most close physical attacks; however, for a short time during battle, it can also take the shape of a ranged weapon, such as bow or lance. Lasting until the need is no more, or the magic reverts to its original purpose as a close ranged melee weapon.

Mechanics: The hilt can manifest any weapon design that the owner needs; however it does not alter the base attack or grant any bonus despite the change. If the purpose is to change the weapon from a close physical to a ranged physical weapon, the change will last for !r 1d10 rounds or until combat is over, whichever comes first. The user must also keep in mind this does not supply them with the arrows if they choose a bow as the shape. The user must sacrifice one round to change the weapon's shape, and is limited to one change within a combat scene, at a maximum of four times per week.

History:
"Have you ever heard the tale of a weapon of white that was imbued with good and righteous might?" A bard asked, laughing and winking at a young, round faced village girl. "Of course I have," she laughed in return, blushing. "Ah, but have you heard my tale?" he asked in a cultivated, luring tone. With a deep blush that spread becomingly across her abundant cleavage and a shake of her head, he began to strumming his well used, cherished lute, to set the story’s mood... "No tale is as amusing to the ear, as those that set the very Gods upon their rears. For not even the Gods can lay their hands upon the haft of the White Weapon. I cannot tell you who made the White Weapon, that is as lost to us as whom brought the sun into existence, but I can tell you of the a few fabled stories that have traveled through the ages." "It was a time ago, I do remember, when the weapon was used to tame a troll. For the hand of its wielder it became a whip that brought the beast to his knees. Or... no I am mistaken, for I now recall, it was the undead that the weapon did maul. As a swinging spiked flail it pierced their mail until not a one was standing." The bard paused to pack and light his pipe, giving the people passing by the chance to gather and hear the humor of his jovial, unorthodox tale. "Where was I? Oh yes..." The music resumed as pipe smoke wafted from between his lips as he continued. "But the best my dear, I must confess is how the great relic came to one of its masters. One pious paladin was buried in a holy tomb with it. A curious dog did bear the weapon from the tomb, acquiring it from digging as dogs will do." Just then a mangy, homely dog came jogging around the corner of a building, carrying a bone in his jaws. Beside the bard it sat, waiting for the story to continue. "Upon this poor fellow, who sat by his fire when the dog did bring him the haft came the grunting sounds of a raiding band of undead. When confronted by these un-living rogues, our reluctant hero did throw the white weapon toward the shambling hoard to distract them from himself." A collective gasp rose from those present, causing him to smile secretly. "But low and behold, so startled by the man's cowardly actions, the undead horror caught the haft and immediately crumpled to ash. Upon seeing this wonder, the band of hellish minions took to their heels in fear." Placing the lute down, the bard then patted the dog's head as it gnawed on its bone and while coins filled his wide brimmed hat on the paving stones before him. If one looked closely just then, as the bard's padded jerkin shifted, they might see a haft of glowing white tucked into his belt.