Another week-and-half(ish), more Knightober and another d10 table of knight orders for scattering about a campaign and tangling PCs up with ~
The Order Of …
The Velvet Glove
“Triumph is never solely through force of arms.” The battle-skills of these knights, notable as they can be, are overshadowed by their knowledge of battle tactics and strategic planning. One of the Gloves is content with hanging back from the front line, knowing that their strategies led their people to victory. – violet and black; chequered pattern or glove – chain hauberk or buff coat, longsword and light crossbow – satchel of dispatches, messenger pigeon or other small critter, signal horn, battle map, military annals
The Winding Path
“If you must put down your burden; if your cause has proven too much; know that there will be a way, in the end.” These knights have, as their unifying code, the codes — and wishes, and hopes — of others, each carrying on the work of one who was overwhelmed, who failed short of their goal, or was otherwise broadsided by fate or inability. – green and earth-brown; stylized path – chainmail or plate mail; any weapon, as appropriate – collection of letters and petitions, traveler’s pack, map of main roads, pledge cup, woolen mantle
“The path is clear, the way is known, and so I stride toward the future with eyes wide open and mind free of illusion. I will not fail.” There is both honour and tranquility to be found in the stillness of the mind, these knights aver, and they quest for it in actions and in silent crystalline meditations. Falsehoods and mirages of all sorts are anathema to the Adamantine, abominations to be fought at every opportunity. – silver and pale blue; crystal – chain hauberk; mace and dagger – personal journal-book or scroll, meditative focus of glass or crystal, pouch of salt, iron knife, string of crystal counting-beads
“Long may we stand, the devoted, the unworthy, in dedication to sacred grace.” Swearing themselves to a power higher than themselves; guardians of roadside shrines and soaring temples, travel companions of holy seers and anointed questors of the divine and those who serve them. – grey and brass; ten-pointed star – any armour; hammer and spear, or as directed by sacred calling – flask of consecrated oil (or water, milk or blood), sacred token, censer or anointing bowl, small knife, warding cord
Crimson Banners Burning
“Let the fires be started, let the blazes burn; hear our voices, hear our roars!” Knights-celebrant, equally likely to be seen flinging themselves headlong into battle or leading a shaken town in raucous, fire-lit rousing of flagging spirits — like the flame, they burn swiftly and brightly to show off exactly how it’s done. – crimson and orange; leaping flame – any armour, trimmed in flame colours; fire-arrows, greatswords and polearms treated with pitch – wineskin, firestarting kit, musical instrument, weapon-repair kit, handkeg of pitch
The Basilisk Claw
“If there’s blood spilling, we’re spilling it.” Some just want to fight. That’s the Basilisk Claws; first to take up arms, last to lower them, and legendary for never backing down from combat, no matter how brutal, no matter how insignificant. – sable and green-gold; reptilian claw – chain, scalemail or plate mail; bastard sword or greataxe – collection of whetstones, record of battles, healer’s kit, extra travel rations, satchel of battle trophies
“None of us need to stand against the world alone.” Matched up into pairs — at the very least — and, if possible, trained as such, this order emphasizes connection and support amongst its members in the face of the fact that knighthood means battle, and killing, and unpleasantness, and even if that connection is at a remove at times, it’s still a shoulder to lean on. – bronze and azure; two swords, sometimes crossed – chainmail or scalemail; longsword and choice of secondary – bundle of letters, personal seal, mending kit, token of partner knight(s), ceremonial ring or gorget
The Eighth Bulwark
“Fight to preserve that which cannot fight.” Most knightly orders take up arms for people, or for causes; the Bulwark stands between places, and objects, and all that may destroy them, whether out of a sense of history, of pride, or simply of the beauty that would otherwise be lost. – amber and brown; shield – plate mail or plate + shield of any type; hammer and glaive – antiquated text, choice of crafter’s tools, armour mending kit, small chisel, adze or trowel, healer’s kit
The Grey Wolf
“Learn from us, one way or the other.” Knights often die young. Of those who do not, many grow disillusioned and leave their order, or any association with the knighthood at all. Those who remain? Who return, even? They find a new network — a new order — and it rallies to show the youngsters, of all stripes, how to keep on keeping on. – dark grey and black; wolfprint – buff coat, scalemail or chain; weapons of their original order, or longsword and bow – traveler’s satchel, lined mantle, personal journals, collection of mementos, jack-of-trades mending kit
The Firefly Lantern
“O Light, lend yourself in these travails of the night-time, for the way is long and we have far to go.” In the rush of civilians fleeing war-torn land; in the depths of night as travelers try to reach shelter; in the face of the twisting alleyways of cities and the shuttered doors of wary villages, these knights are there — to be a guiding light to find a way for others out of their personal dark. – green-gold and silver; lantern or firefly – leather jack or buff coat or chain mantle; staff, shortsword, longsword – hand-lantern of glass or horn, healer’s kit, ciphered travel maps of several locations, dropbox location for letters and small parcels, traveler’s kit to be shared
(I regret nothing of that title and you can’t stop me)
All these knightly orders are all well and good, of course, but what do you do with them? Well, you have PCs in them, and NPCs, and spin some adventure seeds out of it.
But what if you need a bit more of a starting point? Like, say, just who’s running the show or at least where this group of unusual folks came from. It’s a good question, after all, especially if a PC is a member of an order, or for that matter any of the other guilds, factions, and various organizations tossed up here on the blog, or written up elsewhere even.
So here are a few tables for inspiration; roll on them for any given order, or pick one of the results, or just use them as a jumping-off point for your own ideas. They don’t give the nitty-gritty of internal group structures or the like, but they should make a start.
Who Do They Answer To?
01. A ruler — king, empress, etc — or a member of the immediate royal family, or equivalent 02. A great lord of some variety, whether duke or daimyo 03. The hierarch of a religious organization 04. No one but their own leader; the order acts independently 05. No one but their own leader; members may have pledged themselves to various lords and masters 06. There is no true group hierarchy, only cells or networks and apprenticeships 07. A sorcerous or mystical or otherwise non-mortal entity, from dragon to ascended soul 08. The leaders of a community or communities
Of course, a group does need funds. (well, sometimes; some may be more professions of faith or shared wellsprings of knowledge than a formal organization. that’s usually not the case with a knightly order, though, unless the order is a federation of hedge-knights in common.)
How Do They Support The Order?
01. Tithes from members (a percentage of income or labour) 02. Subsidized by royalty, nobility, or other secular patron 03. Subsidized by a religious edifice (temple or shrine) 04. Quests taken on for the order itself 05. Individual members take on quests or missions 06. A mutual aid society, informal in nature 07. Donations from those the order aids 08. There is no direct support for the order as a whole
How Are Members Expected To Contribute?
(beyond upholding the order’s ideals, which kind of goes without saying)
01. Tithing an amount of funds, or in kind, or with labour 02. Teaching new recruits or apprentices 03. Encouraging the growth of the order 04. Performing quests and endeavours that bring acclaim to the order 05. Contending with the order’s rivals and/or enemies 06. Offering aid or shelter to fellows, when called upon
Under many circumstances, several of these possibilities are just taken as a matter of course anyway; but even then, there may be an especial emphasis or value placed on a specific contribution in particular.
Also vitally important — when there’s scores of orders and dozens of factions out and about, it’s highly unlikely that all these groups will somehow never cross paths with at least a few others. So how does that shake out?
What does this order think of another?
01. Kinship, in arms or in peace 02. Casual allies, at least on a day to day basis 03. The leadership/established members are considered allies 04. The leadership/established members are considered rivals or enemies 05. The other order is anathema 06. There is old bad blood, but overtures are being made 07. There is currently competition for [hearts/faith/resources] 08. The order wishes to remain unknown to the other 09. A favour of honour is owed to the other order 10. The other order owes a favour of honour 11. Neutrality, with no particular opinion 12. Curiosity, with a side of jocular rivalry
And if the basic beliefs of the two groups are intrinsically opposed (or aligned) and a contrary result comes up, well, there’s certainly some potential adventuring and politicking in the weeds there —
Swordtember ended in a flurry and haze of hurricanes and covid; I got all my swords finished, but it was definitely a tiring work by the end of it, I won’t lie.
Of course, I still wanted to do Knightober.
But maybe not as much as Swordtember, or the fairly lengthy mostly-fiction entries I wrote for Knightober last year. Something a little smaller.
Why not some outlines for knightly orders, then, thought I? Ones in the same format as my first and second d66 tables of guilds, factions, and often-odd organizations — but smaller chunks, so I can recharge.
Why not indeed?
So, here is my first d10 table of knightly orders, inspired by prompts from Kalloway —
The Order Of …
The Thirteenth Banner
“Gird thyself with arcane arts; it serves as steadfastly as any blade.” As much hedge-witches as hedge-knights, dedicated to the melding of sword and spell, with many choosing to specialize in a particular sorcery or theme – green and silver; banner or pennant bearing chosen glyph – buff coat and gorget; swords of all varieties – scrivener’s kit or other recording aid, spellstone, letters from arcane correspondent, warding charm, binding charm
“Temper your blade, your bulwark, and your own spirit. All may be purified in the forge.” Knights with a penchant for the strength of steel, both physically and metaphorically — and the most trusted steel is that which one smelts with one’s own hand – grey and steel blue; blade through an anvil – any steel armour + kite shield; longsword, bastard sword or greataxe – smith’s tools, traveling anvil, steel-loop charm, flask of pure oil, alloy billet, crucible
The Pale Ring
“We stand with those who crossed over. We stand against those who cross back.” Guardians of necropolei, wardens of graves, and grim stalwarts in the battle against the restless dead, an abomination against the peace of those who have passed on – black and ivory; ring – scale armour, often inset with bone or enameled ivory; mace and sabre – lantern, consecrated oils, records of dedicated burials, bone or ivory ring, censer
The First Wyrm
“Emulate the First in all ways: Be swift. Be just. Be wise. Be ruthless. Be unconquerable.” Followers of a code — some call them worshipers more than knights — based on the mythos surrounding Sarukkh, legendary origin of dragonkind. Some swear themselves to other wyrms. – ruby red and indigo; rampant dragon – scale armour + kite shield; longsword or war pick – dragonscale- or -talon token, wyrmsblood candle, contract of the First’s laws, grooming kit, map of local dragonlairs
The Silver Peony
“Others may falter, but the Peony blooms for eternity. Our word is our bond.” Swearers of oaths and upholders of righteousness, these knights strive to live and die in honour and to kindle the honourable impulse in those around them by example. And if the law be unrighteous, there is no honour in it. – silver and white; peony – chain mail or plate mail + round shield; spear or lance – oath-ring, healer’s kit, fringed shawl or mantle, worry-beads, lamp or lantern
“The heavens will fall before I am torn from my charge.” All knights of this order swear themselves to a singular dedication, be it individual or institution, a cause or a campaign, oath or ideal — and place themselves in the vanguard of defense for their chosen one. – tawny and green; shield and ring – any armour + round shield; longsword and javelins – token of their oath, personal chapbook of notes on their charge, mending kit, traveler’s cloak, oathknife and blood seal
The Ashen Knife
“When all has been lost, what is there to fear.” Not all knights succeed in upholding their knighthoods; some turn against their oaths, some grow disillusioned with once-cherished beliefs, some lose themselves in bloodthirst. For all of these and more, there is kinship with their fellow fallen, even as they hate the reminder of what they were. – grey and sooty; shattered weapon, usually a sword, sometimes over old emblem – varies according to old order + personal bitterness – disfigured crest, mending kit, hidden dagger, ashwood chain, handmade chart of hidden roads
“Ever changing, ever flowing, ever adaptable. The soothing purity that washes away all with time.” Chivalrous haunters of springs and hidden pools, bearers of water to the needful and expiation to those who need an ear to hear — or a purge of sin, true or simply believed – teal and turquoise; cluster of teardrops – scale or chainmail; spear, hammer – length of immaculate cloth, several waterskins, flask of purified water, riverstone charm, ciphered map of water sources
The Roaring Mouse
“Our time will come.” Not a true ‘order’, as much as a cross-order informal conglomeration of squires, pages, aides, apprentices, and other young knights-to-be, sharing news, gossip, insight and information with each other – brown and white; stylized mouse – padded jack; weapons of order-to-be – handicrafts kit, mending kit, messages for senior or mentor, letters from fellows, award ribbon
The Charge Perilous
“Today we strive, we fight, we win! Tomorrow they sing our achievements — tomorrow, and forever!” It’s all about the fight, for this order — the fight, the quest, the grand adventure, the crux when you’ve seized the moment, your moment, and immortalized yourself in song and legend. Whatever you do, do it well, so awesomely that no one dares to ever forget you. – gold and azure; upraised fist or splayed hand – virtually anything, really, as long as it gleams somewhere; battleaxe, halberd, bastard sword, or other standout weapon – maintenance kit, healer’s kit, rallying horn, victor’s circlet, wineskin
You are dead, whoever or whatever you may have been while alive, and obviously so. This hasn’t stopped you, as it turns out; whether curse or faith, accident or deliberate transformation, you are dead but you are still moving by your own will.
There’s great variability in your corpse’s potential appearance, depending on your death, your personal upkeep and grooming habits, your access to talented necrochirurgeons, and so forth: skeletal, fleshy, mummified, a kind of dry rot-like existence, immaculately preserved — withered, waxen, leathery or cold as marble — or any and all combinations of the above and more are possibilities. No matter your looks, however, even if you have not modified or ornamented your corpse you will not be mistaken for a living being.
You also carry your heart with you. Actual transmuted heart? Manifest soul? Tether to the world? All of these? Who can say, save for that last? What’s important is that this glassy bauble, heavy in your hand and kindled with a softly golden light, is what keeps you going — and must not be taken from you. Best keep it safe. Maybe even inside.
Prime Requisites: CON and WIS Attack: as Cleric Saving Throws: as Cleric Hit Dice: 1d8 Armour Allowed: Any Weapons Allowed: Any Languages: Common, Alignment
* Life’s Chains Broken: You do not require food, water or sleep, only four hours contemplation. You are immune to poison, disease, and paralysis.
* The Cold Seeks All: You have infravision to 60′.
* Dead Flesh: As a walking corpse, you cannot heal with rest (dead flesh does not heal) and healing magic has no effect on you. In order to regain lost hit points above 1, you require the attentions of a necrochirurgeon for a day and an expenditure of 1 gp, plus access to 1 hp of corpse material per hit point regained. You may work on yourself, at a rate of 2 hit points per hour’s work, but the material needs are doubled unless you are skilled in necrochirurgery. It is possible to choose to partially restore hit points if there is a lack of funds, materials or time.
* Tethering Heart: A glass-like bauble but so much more than that, heavy and large enough to fill a cupped palm and then some, your heart is key; if it is destroyed, so are you. Putting more than a mile’s distance between yourself and your heart causes discomfort and disquiet; if another creature claims your heart, you will do anything to get it back.
* Rising: You have already died once; it is cursed difficult to put you in the ground again and keep you there. Once reduced to 0 hp you collapse, but will rise again in 1d6 hours unless your heart has been destroyed. Upon rising you have 1 hp and will remain so until the damage to your corpse is seen to (see Dead Flesh).
* Curse Of Unlife: You’re an undead corpse, and that has drawbacks beyond the inability to heal. While you’re not necessarily affected by (un)holy water depending on your personal ethos, you are definitely affected by spells, magic items, divine proclamations and other things that can affect, harm, ward or destroy unliving creatures — and that includes being susceptible to clerical turning and command. You do get a to make a saving throw vs. death magic to resist the results of a turning or command check.
* Grave Gifts: Each risen has their own quirks. Roll twice on the following table:
01. Corpse Medicine: Offer a portion of your remains, from enresinated fluids to powdered bone, to heal another at a 1 : 2 hit point ratio. 02. Grave Armour: Whether dense flesh, strengthened bone or osseous plating, improve AC by 2. 03. Eldritch Sense: Cast Detect Magic once a day. 04. Spectre: Cast Cause Fear once a day. 05. Wardead: Claws, jaws, sharpened phalanges, bony fists or implanted weaponry, attack unarmed for 1d4 damage. 06. Mortuary Sense: 2-in-6 chance to sense other undead within 60′. 07. Devour: Three times a day, regain 1d3 hp from feeding from a corpse directly. 08. Chattering Bone: Ask a corpse or part of one one question, once a day. 09. Ghostlight: Conjure orb of pale-green or blue-white “flame” as a candle, once a day; one hour, or four if conjured into your heart. 10. Vault Cadavre: A portion of your corpse is modified for ease of opening and secure storage, revealing a space that can contain small objects up to a dagger to a waterskin, depending on the location of your vault. 11. Dead Tongue: You may communicate telepathically to any creature within 100′. 12. Grave Will: You are treated as +2 HD when faced with turning or control attempts.
* Ossuary Founder: After reaching 9th level, a risen may establish or build a stronghold or ossuary, attracting 2d6 followers who may be 1st level risen, magic-users or fighters. These followers are devoted, but if they die or are permanently destroyed they are not automatically replaced.
01. There is something or someone you protected with your life, and now with your death 02. A necromancer got you instead of the zombie they were expecting 03. It was your literal dying wish 04. A wandering traveller blighted — or blessed — you, then vanished 05. You have an oath not yet fulfilled 06. Don’t play around with necromantic rituals you aren’t qualified for, folks 07. They will not have the satisfaction of having killed you 08. This way, you may serve for eternity 09. It was a strange illness; you had no idea just how strange 10. You traded your life for something or someone precious (or you thought so, at the time) 11. Your tomb was disturbed; you didn’t appreciate that 12. You don’t remember how it happened and dearly wish to find out
01. How about Basic Fantasy, AD&D and the like?
Honestly, I was going to write up entire species stats and then I realized that, since I didn’t want to add prerequisites, there’s no real need for ability score modifiers either.
Besides, when you’re dead, you’re dead. It’s the great leveler. I suppose I could have added “Requirement: Dead” to the BD&D block? But naaah.
Assume movement rates work like a living representative of the species in question unless there’s a good reason not to; apply all the special traits given in the class write-up, including Grave Goods. Unless everyone is cool with the idea, it’s probably best to not carry over special abilities from the risen’s species (if the PC isn’t a human corpse).
02. Level limits?
Nah. If you want to use them, especially as a “species” and not species-as-class, assign them as you see fit; I don’t like level limits, especially with separate species and class, and honestly there’s not a lot of stereotypes I’d apply to a dead dude in order to limit them?
(you bet your arse I’d want to write a risen cleric, say. oh ho ho ho)
03. That’s some convoluted stuff and also why does it take so much to “heal” them and …
That’s the theme I wanted, basically. You’ll keep going, but your corpse is battered and so is what’s animating you, but since it’s all dead matter a clever-handed artisan can restore you in a grand combination of sculpture, leather-and-textile arts and taxidermy. And yes, you can fancy yourself up, because you’re already dead. Be the jeweled saint you want to be in the world, even.
04. That turning stuff is rough, man.
It sure is. I like my thematics and I’m not sorry. A destruction result probably shouldn’t destroy a risen’s heart, though — something for PCs wrangling with risen to keep in mind. Or learn the hard way.
05. Why the “heart”?
Because the image of a corpse carrying this warmly faintly luminous bit of beauty stuck with me and by fuck I was going to use it.
A shimmering silver sword — a silvery longsword, mounted in same, its grip engraved with overlapping scales (or maybe feathers?), its quillions slightly spiraled and capped with small silver spheres, its pommel a moonstone that changes its face as the moon does.
A silver sword just a little awkward to fight with, perhaps, as its blade is loosely, perpetually garlanded in indigo-blue cords and strings of tiny silver bells.
But that’s alright; the Eyes Of The Moon isn’t looking for battle. Not like that.
* Bells and garlands notwithstanding, one can fight with Eyes; there’s no great bonus to gain while doing so, however, as the blade is effectively simply a well-made longsword. It does bypass lycanthropic immunities, that said.
Kept at one’s side is where Eyes Of The Moon belongs, where it can gently whisper advice about one’s situation (it is a wise sage in matters of courtliness, politeness, gift-giving, falsehoods and white lies, and the whims of nobility in general and lunar highborn in particular) and — should its bearer actually be threatened — will animate and attack of its own accord in a nimbus of silver-white, interposing itself to block blows (armour as plate mail) and to disrupt underhanded spellcasting (2-in-6 chance to detect such, attacking caster if possible). Eyes will also watch over a sleeping bearer, hovering silently at times or perhaps murmuring soothing melodies.
* Though the Eyes Of The Moon can and sometimes does relate small anecdotes about former bearers (usually incorporated into its advice), no comment is made about the origin or creation of the sword save for the avowal that it, indeed, stems from the moon itself. The Eyes also retains a lingering affinity for its prior bearers and will absolutely refuse to cooperate with any who have claimed it by simply snatching it from its bearer’s cooling corpse or taken it away from a home — or grave — without cause or negotiation.
Some of the stories swirling around the blade include the exploits of Maruek Lightweaver, a sixth-son who came to carry the sword, the time an assassination attempt at a treaty-signed was thwarted by Eyes and the swift-thinking lady who listened to her blade’s warning, and the snow-silver figure of the Winter Knight, first known to have carried Eyes Of The Moon — and wore the bells in their hair that seem a very great deal like those now garlanding the blade.
This trim longsword sports a blade engraved with shallow grooves along its midrib, and a more rounded than usual tip, along with short quillions tipped with blunt recurved “claws” and a grip composed of alternating plaques of black and white horn pegged into place with brass nails enameled in opposite shade, black against white and vice versa. The pommel is a steel ring, occasionally seen sporting a tassel, a trophy tail, a few dangling ribbons, or other unassuming and fairly random ornaments.
* Magpie doesn’t have to draw blood to wound and confound those feeling its steel. It’s still a sword, of course, and may be used to injure, and grants its bearer a bit of nimble-footed advantage in that regard (+1 to attack); but what it really excels at is wounding perceptions.
By stealing colour.
For every strike taken from Magpie, regardless of actual physical injury (or lack thereof), the victim and all they carry at the time have all their colours drain away. For the next hour they appear in shades of off-white at most, greyer where shadows land — and the victim themselves view the entire world similarly, a bleached existence licked by wan shadowing at best. The experience is unsettling, leaving the victim shaken and more likely to fumble any crucial endeavour (disadvantage on all things).
Magpie’s wielder may choose to prevent the blade from dealing any physical injury from a strike by the sword. Similarly, they may choose to omit the external evidence of Magpie’s colour theft.
* Magpie — originally an unsharpened blade — was forged as a teaching tool. Symbolic of the Empty Totality school’s beliefs in the necessity of learning to see beyond one’s comforting and familiar surroundings, the sword was enchanted by northern school branch’s Forgemaster by request of Lord Midnight Vath, who would drain the colour of those followers who wished to directly understand what disorienting emptiness, and enlightenment, a truly colourless world could bring them.
The sword was stolen in a raid during the Screaming Garden Wars and its subsequent use as — among other things — as a tool of social and political sabotage has been a source of embarrassment for the Empty Totality. The school would give much to have the blade returned.
Most Greysparks are shortswords — some are daggers — and none have been created, to date, any larger, though the idea’s been bandied around. All bear the same look, more or less: a hilt of porcelain over hardwood, slim and sporting the merest hint of a guard or shoulder, a smoothly grey-gold glassy dome for a pommel-nut, and a slender twin-edged blade that tapers to a fine needle tip.
A blade that is — or at least looks — perpetually vibrating, so finely and so fast that the shape of it looks to be blurry and indistinct around the edges.
* Surprisingly, perhaps, touching a Greyspark’s shivering blade is not a surefire way to lose a finger. In fact, the sword can cause no harm at all to anything of living tissue or organic nature, or even more esoteric beings such as elementals. (It does tickle, though.)
However, wielding such a blade against any form of clockwork, constructs, or otherworldly metallic- or otherwise-forged entities is a whole different story — against such mechanized foes a Greyspark inflicts double damage and forces its victim, for its first successful wounding, into a shuddering halt as its internals stutter and glitch, losing its next two actions.
Some Greysparks also ignore mechanicals’ armour as well; or, more commonly, can cast a sizzling sparkbolt one to four times a day, dealing normal damage as a ranged attack up to 60′.
* All Greyspark blades stem from the same source: the hidden foundries of the Grey Guild, who fight from shadow and fen, alley and market, against the creeping tide of the Steel Wave March that the Emperor of Porcelain and Steel sends across portal after gleaming portal to harvest the land and its people. The Guild has found weaknesses in the warbling warrior constructs, and they gladly share with any who join the fight.
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.
The soft nacreous sheen of this scimitar-like blade looks almost like an enamel or stain, but no — it is part of the blade itself, a feature of the Claw’s draconically-worked steel. Pearl Diviner’s Claw is also a blade and only a blade, the tip wickedly sharp, the butt ending abruptly in a short blunt wedge capped with silver. There is no hilt, no grip of any kind, and no proper tang on which to mount one.
* Pearl Diviner’s Claw, once claimed by a new owner (by touching at least three drops of blood to the butt of the blade), will hover and bob silently around their person, following the motions of a limb if its owner so desires and otherwise hanging in a neutral position, tip downward. At will, its owner can direct the blade to fly and slash at subjects within comfortable melee range as if a scimitar in addition to any other allowable actions that they may have.
Four times per lunar cycle, the Claw’s owner may trail a blood drop on the blade and ask a question or seek to identify an object or being, and the answer will shimmer to the surface of Pearl Diviner’s Claw.
* It’s a strange world out there, sometimes; and what could be stranger, to some, than a dragon that wanted to be a duelist? But that is exactly what Curacivatha The Ocean Jewel wished, and so that was exactly what he did — forging the Claw from sunken steel and his own blood and venom, according to enchantments he saw in pearl-sent dreams.
A dragon’s paw may be unsuited to to sword, but a dragon’s mind can wield any blade. The Ocean Jewel insisted, after all, on fair matches.
At rest, Anvi’s Clever Flick looks like an unassuming rapier. An ornamented — or ornamental — rapier, to be sure, with its silver handguard pierced so delicately it looks like lace, its dainty and useless-looking quillions, and the multicoloured glass finial it calls a pommel-nut, a riot of whirling colours in the shape of a tapered teardrop.
Then the Flick is, well, flicked through the air by its wielder and suddenly it is a snaking ribbon of rapier blade —
* Designed to confound and startle, as well as extend reach, Anvi’s Clever Flick will, once an encounter or engagement, cause any opponent unfamiliar with the blade to lose their next action as they stumble to a confused mental halt.
Anvi’s is a sneaky sword, capable of magically extending when swung (or even just vigorously, dramatically pointed) up to 30′ feet away in a supple arc of shining steel. The wielder of the Flick can dictate the path of the rapidly-flicking tendril; attacking at a distance, snaking around obstacles, and similar are all simple gambits. Needless to say, shields are useless against Anvi’s Clever Flick.
Worse, the flickering blade is ribbon thin and razor sharp; wounds continue to bleed freely until treated (minimum damage every action until healed or mundanely bound).
* Some things are enchanted as experiments; such is the case with Anvi’s Clever Flick. Anvi Firecracker’s attempt to create a magical sword that could fission into a blossom of flying, spiderwebbing metallic wires may have failed (for now), but the Clever Flick still turned out to be interesting, quirky and at times hilariously useful. Gifted to the swordmaster Tanton Phayar, it upset many a challenge until folks grew wise to the sword and its trick.