Praefection
02-15-2006, 03:23 PM
Selling an eagle-winged blue vultite longsword. It's a hunt for history item and unfortanately I don't know a whole lot about it. It can't be blessed, so I don't know if it was enchanted and a warrior wasn't able to see any weighting.
an eagle-winged blue vultite longsword:
A pair of golden eagle wings sweep back to form a guard, with the feather motif continuing down the cold, blue blade in the form of very light engraving. The single blue sapphire set at the end of the golden pommel is slightly chipped, but still mesmerizingly beautiful.
Loresong as follows:
Everything around you falls away with vertiginous speed. Without knowing exactly how, you understand that you are part of a small cadre of soldiers creeping along in the lee of an old stone wall. The night is dark, cold, and silent save for the hooting of a lone owl. Blood is pounding in your ears and your nerves are stretched as taut as bowstrings. You round the corner into a dense grove of oaks, and see Ethauc, your leader, raise his hand, signaling a halt.
With no transition at all, you find yourself back in the grove of trees. Ethauc gestures for you and your companions to gather around. There is an odd catch in his voice as he says, "My brothers and sisters, we have fought together, bled together, and survived together. We face a great foe tonight, but if anyone can turn the tide, it is us. But even we could use some help, so on a recent journey to Brantur I had swords made for us all, and each one of them I sharpened on the Whetstone." With great ceremony Ethauc withdraws one sheathed longsword at a time from his pack and hands it to a member of the company. When you receive yours, the cold weight of it is both surprising and familiar. Even in this watery moonlight the sapphire in the sword's pommel sparkles with life.
The illusion slips away, though the longsword is still in your hand.
Eagerly, you allow the song to send you back to that dark forest. Donning the sheaths, you and your brethren resume battle-ready positions. Ethauc whispers, "Drinks in Tyllan are on me tomorrow night!" As a unit you steal out of the woods and over a small hill, surprising a ragged band of undead beasts. You draw your sword and charge into the fray, cutting down your opponents right and left with startling ease. To either side you see your fellow soldiers taking out the few remaining creatures, when a trumpet blast echoes from behind. A man on horseback gallops toward you, shouting, "Blue Eagles, turn back to Elstreth! It is besieged and in need of aid!" He blows the trumpet again and races off.
You look around for your companions but the vision has slipped away.
It seems easier now, stepping back into that other life. Your legs ache from the hurried march back to the city. The walls of Elstreth are in sight, as is the great army of the Horned Cabal. A rush of energy floods your system, and you charge behind Ethauc toward the nightmarish creatures. You fall quickly into the rhythm of the fight, the sword in your hand moving almost of its own accord. You hear a sudden shout, and turn to face it.
The battlefield has gone, leaving you feeling unbalanced and anxious to return.
You are back in the battle, once again turning to face the source of that unexpected shout. The scene that greets your eyes chills you to the very marrow of your bones. Cutting a swath through the regiments behind you is the northern force of the Horned Cabal, the very army you had been sent to destroy in the first place. Caught now between the rotting jaws of these two merciless powers, there is nothing to do but fight. With a deep growl you raise your longsword and dive back into the battle.
The enemies become phantoms, then vanish altogether, although your battlelust remains.
With fierce determination you launch yourself back into the ancient war. Foes are falling away with a grisly sort of grace when three skeletal figures surround you. You hold off two of them but the third is too much. He lunges in to strike at your exposed side, then collapses with alarming suddenness. Ethauc is revealed, ichor-stained longsword in hand. You grin at him, but your smile becomes a gasp of horror at the sight of a spear head sliding out through his chest. Ethauc grins back at you before falling slowly to his knees. You move toward him, but feel something very cold on your left shoulder. Faster than thought, ice suffuses your system. The battlefield is silent, the sun goes out, and only the taste of metal lingers on your tongue.
Silently you stand as sound and sense return. The icy hand holding your heart is slow to release its grip. The blue vultite longsword you hold seems warmer than before, but also heavier, more substantial.
The longsword rests silently in your hand, revealing nothing more about its past.
A million bid to start. If anyone's interested send me a u2u or post here. Better yet if someone knows the exact stats, please let me know.
an eagle-winged blue vultite longsword:
A pair of golden eagle wings sweep back to form a guard, with the feather motif continuing down the cold, blue blade in the form of very light engraving. The single blue sapphire set at the end of the golden pommel is slightly chipped, but still mesmerizingly beautiful.
Loresong as follows:
Everything around you falls away with vertiginous speed. Without knowing exactly how, you understand that you are part of a small cadre of soldiers creeping along in the lee of an old stone wall. The night is dark, cold, and silent save for the hooting of a lone owl. Blood is pounding in your ears and your nerves are stretched as taut as bowstrings. You round the corner into a dense grove of oaks, and see Ethauc, your leader, raise his hand, signaling a halt.
With no transition at all, you find yourself back in the grove of trees. Ethauc gestures for you and your companions to gather around. There is an odd catch in his voice as he says, "My brothers and sisters, we have fought together, bled together, and survived together. We face a great foe tonight, but if anyone can turn the tide, it is us. But even we could use some help, so on a recent journey to Brantur I had swords made for us all, and each one of them I sharpened on the Whetstone." With great ceremony Ethauc withdraws one sheathed longsword at a time from his pack and hands it to a member of the company. When you receive yours, the cold weight of it is both surprising and familiar. Even in this watery moonlight the sapphire in the sword's pommel sparkles with life.
The illusion slips away, though the longsword is still in your hand.
Eagerly, you allow the song to send you back to that dark forest. Donning the sheaths, you and your brethren resume battle-ready positions. Ethauc whispers, "Drinks in Tyllan are on me tomorrow night!" As a unit you steal out of the woods and over a small hill, surprising a ragged band of undead beasts. You draw your sword and charge into the fray, cutting down your opponents right and left with startling ease. To either side you see your fellow soldiers taking out the few remaining creatures, when a trumpet blast echoes from behind. A man on horseback gallops toward you, shouting, "Blue Eagles, turn back to Elstreth! It is besieged and in need of aid!" He blows the trumpet again and races off.
You look around for your companions but the vision has slipped away.
It seems easier now, stepping back into that other life. Your legs ache from the hurried march back to the city. The walls of Elstreth are in sight, as is the great army of the Horned Cabal. A rush of energy floods your system, and you charge behind Ethauc toward the nightmarish creatures. You fall quickly into the rhythm of the fight, the sword in your hand moving almost of its own accord. You hear a sudden shout, and turn to face it.
The battlefield has gone, leaving you feeling unbalanced and anxious to return.
You are back in the battle, once again turning to face the source of that unexpected shout. The scene that greets your eyes chills you to the very marrow of your bones. Cutting a swath through the regiments behind you is the northern force of the Horned Cabal, the very army you had been sent to destroy in the first place. Caught now between the rotting jaws of these two merciless powers, there is nothing to do but fight. With a deep growl you raise your longsword and dive back into the battle.
The enemies become phantoms, then vanish altogether, although your battlelust remains.
With fierce determination you launch yourself back into the ancient war. Foes are falling away with a grisly sort of grace when three skeletal figures surround you. You hold off two of them but the third is too much. He lunges in to strike at your exposed side, then collapses with alarming suddenness. Ethauc is revealed, ichor-stained longsword in hand. You grin at him, but your smile becomes a gasp of horror at the sight of a spear head sliding out through his chest. Ethauc grins back at you before falling slowly to his knees. You move toward him, but feel something very cold on your left shoulder. Faster than thought, ice suffuses your system. The battlefield is silent, the sun goes out, and only the taste of metal lingers on your tongue.
Silently you stand as sound and sense return. The icy hand holding your heart is slow to release its grip. The blue vultite longsword you hold seems warmer than before, but also heavier, more substantial.
The longsword rests silently in your hand, revealing nothing more about its past.
A million bid to start. If anyone's interested send me a u2u or post here. Better yet if someone knows the exact stats, please let me know.