A stone sword. A shortsword of broad black basalt, to be precise — blade, grip, and quillions all shaped from one chunk of sooty black stone and ground to a deceptively velvety polish. The grip of Exile’s Fury is frequently wrapped in various softer materials; ragged linen, worn plaid wool, leather braids, or — in one notable anecdote — the shimmering hide of a strange jewel-bright lizard of some unknown type.
Beyond its changeable wrapping, the only mark to blemish the matte black of the sword’s surface is the roundel scratched into the butt of the grip where a pommel would be, a circle surrounding a shape variously described as a teardrop or a talon.
* Exile’s Fury cleaves its targets with the weight of stone and stubbornness (+2 to damage) and injuries normally-immune targets, as well as ignoring all magical or spiritual defenses — spell armour, enchanted protections, and the like simply don’t exist for it. Only solid, physical, mundane armour will do.
When wielded against an individual who has specifically wronged its bearer, or a member of an organization that has done the same, Exile’s Fury erupts — the basalt blade seems to liquify as the sword becomes a gout of roiling magma, and all injured by it while in this state take double damage and are struck by a soul-searing terror, their mind’s eye filling with all the misfortune the sword’s bearer experienced at their hands (or believes that they have).
* Equal parts personal exorcism, rage incarnate, and an exemplar of patient craft-sorcery, Exile’s Fury was created by the “rogue” hermit-saint Blind Spring Faith after he was driven from his loose confederation of huts, cells and winding paths for a corrupting ritual he did not actually take part in. Faith fled to the burning wastes of the Black Tableland and, surviving, learned to fight, and to channel his new hate, and to avenge his honour and those who had died — then passed the sword to another, in the aftermath, for his own exile was ended.
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