wizgem3
12-10-2010, 11:38 PM
Auction will go once, twice, sold. No buyout listed but i'm open to it.
a serrated black glaes warblade -10X - Ice Flares - Zested
Show: Spanning from the hilt to the tip of the ebon-hued blade are several flame shaped protrusions that have been sharpened into a random serration. Extending from the hilt to the sphere that serves as a pommel is a finely contoured handle wrapped in scorched leather. Twin fangs of pure urglaes have been set into either end of the hilt, pointing in the direction of the weapons tip. Turning the blade over, you discover the word "Agony" etched into the smooth surface of the shadowglass orb. You also notice a small enchanter's glyph.
MB: 35 Mil
a large black forester axe - 10X - Acid Flares
Show: The razor-sharp blade of this deadly looking weapon has several nicks in it, no doubt a sign of frequent use. The long ebon-hued haft is wrapped at the bottom with black leather to ensure a firm grip. Deeply carved into the side of the haft are the words, "Death waits for no man". You also notice a small enchanter's glyph.
MB: 35 Mil
a blackened short-sword - 7X - Perfect - 6% bonus to DF/Breakage, +3 AvD
MB: 12 Mil
a hefty haon-hafted eahnor maul - 7X(+33) - 4% bonus to DF/Breakage, +2 AvD
MB: 12 Mil
a perfect monir-hilted mithril short-sword - 6X - Perfect - 6% bonus to DF/Breakage, +3 AvD
MB: 6 Mil
CB: 0
an ora-hilted veil iron longsword - 5X - Mana Vial Flares - Has Loresong
You swing an ora-hilted veil iron longsword at a greater construct!
AS: +534 vs DS: +378 with AvD: +17 + d100 roll: +70 = +243
... and hit for 28 points of damage!
Jarring blow to the greater construct's back.
Your veil iron longsword twists in your hands, the pommel's base splits open and spits an incandescent crystalline vial out and onto the ground where it lands with a crystalline **TINKLE**.
A greater construct writhes in agony as some mana is stripped from it!
A vision of a young elven boy, no more than ten years of age, fills your mind. He is talking urgently with an older elven man, seemingly his grandfather, as he bounces gleefully on his lap. The ancient elf, his hair nearly touching the ground nods attentively, and tries to hide a smile. After a few moments of conversation, the old man chuckles and hands the young boy a small crudely-made veil iron longsword and shoos him on his way, challenging him with a question. The boy scowls and retreats with the longsword.
The vision focuses on the boy once more, this time however, it is a vision of him in his early adulthood at a ceremony. It looks as though he has just graduated from a magical academy. Instead of celebrating and taking some time to be with friends and family, he runs off to his home and immediately enters a special room. Centered in the middle of the floor is a carved wooden stand, and centered upon that is the plain longsword that the older wizard bequeathed the young boy. He concentrates mightily and chants an obviously new phrase. Finally, when it seems that nothing will happen, a small spark of power escapes his finger and seeps into the weapon. As it does, a small crack in the weapon fills in. The elf beams happily to himself, before collapsing in exhaustion and sleep the night away...
The elven wizard is trooping back home after the end of his workday, pocketed scrolls and flailing pouches rustling as he hurries home. Small grey streaks line his hair now and a wrinkle or two mar his otherwise smooth features. As he enters the same room with the veil iron longsword the vision focuses quickly on it. In place of the crude longsword, now sits a near perfect one. The wizard places everything he was carrying down first and pours himself a cup of tea, taking his time to eat and drink before approaching it. He sighs wearily and hums a chant. A bright flash of power enters the longsword and he collapses once again.
The same elven lad that has appeared before is present again, this time at an ornate funeral. His eyes are sad, but focused on the review of images surrounding his grandfather's life that are part of the intricate ceremony. The illusion shows all the good this particular elf did in his lifetime, including handing the small veil iron longsword to a young elven boy. Our elven wizard sheds a small tear for the man, but stands up and loudly exclaims, "Where is his legacy! There is naught !" He begins to cry in great sobs and hurries from the room, amid a mixture of pitying glances and angry stares.
The wizard is running back to his home still crying from the funeral. He enters the room with the longsword, then sits down and does nothing but stare. The sun and moons pass by through the windows many times in the vision, as the young elf just sits and stares. Finally he takes a deep breath, his eyes focused but more subdued, as if a decision has been reached. He chants once more toward the blade and falls to the ground in exhaustion again.
A few days go by, his normal routine restored, when the elf hears a knock at his door and answers it. A ruddy dwarven man enters the cottage and grumbles, obviously unhappy at being in an elf's home. The elf quickly motions his guest into the room, gesturing with the veil iron longsword. The dwarf grunts with an air of respect and admiration, nodding almost imperceptibly at the elf before kneeling before him, his eyes locked on the staff. He confers with the wizard, a bag of silver is passed between them, and he leaves. The wizard chants once more over the now perfect sword, which seems to glow with an intensity. The exhausted wizard sits down heavily lays his head to rest once again.
A vision of many seasons passing enters your mind as the wizard ages before your eyes.
The vision of the wizard chanting over the blade each night is a painful one, but the look of resolve and dedication is apparent in the elf's demeanor.
Another vision begins with the dwarf, aged considerably, returning and attaching an ornate gem to the veil iron longsword under the watchful guise of the elderly wizard.
The haggard looking wizard bends his head in thanks to the dwarf, his thinning hair standing out in great tuffs of grey. The dwarf asks him a final question to which the elf nods and let's loose a deep sigh, although the look of resolve returns to his milky eyes. The dwarf returns the nod with one of respect and leaves him quickly.
The aged elven wizard sits for a fortnight, without sleep or nourishment, in front of the veil iron longsword. Finally, on the last day he holds both hands out to the longsword, and voices a long and sorrowful chant. A blinding bolt of power leaves the wizard's hand and seeps into the weapon. As the power continually enters the longsword from the wizard, the sun and moons can be seen changing through the windows for another fortnight. Finally the wizard collapses in exhaustion once more, a barely audible whisper escapes his lips -- "Legacy" -- with his last, parting breath.
MB: 12 Mil
CB: 0
a serrated black glaes warblade -10X - Ice Flares - Zested
Show: Spanning from the hilt to the tip of the ebon-hued blade are several flame shaped protrusions that have been sharpened into a random serration. Extending from the hilt to the sphere that serves as a pommel is a finely contoured handle wrapped in scorched leather. Twin fangs of pure urglaes have been set into either end of the hilt, pointing in the direction of the weapons tip. Turning the blade over, you discover the word "Agony" etched into the smooth surface of the shadowglass orb. You also notice a small enchanter's glyph.
MB: 35 Mil
a large black forester axe - 10X - Acid Flares
Show: The razor-sharp blade of this deadly looking weapon has several nicks in it, no doubt a sign of frequent use. The long ebon-hued haft is wrapped at the bottom with black leather to ensure a firm grip. Deeply carved into the side of the haft are the words, "Death waits for no man". You also notice a small enchanter's glyph.
MB: 35 Mil
a blackened short-sword - 7X - Perfect - 6% bonus to DF/Breakage, +3 AvD
MB: 12 Mil
a hefty haon-hafted eahnor maul - 7X(+33) - 4% bonus to DF/Breakage, +2 AvD
MB: 12 Mil
a perfect monir-hilted mithril short-sword - 6X - Perfect - 6% bonus to DF/Breakage, +3 AvD
MB: 6 Mil
CB: 0
an ora-hilted veil iron longsword - 5X - Mana Vial Flares - Has Loresong
You swing an ora-hilted veil iron longsword at a greater construct!
AS: +534 vs DS: +378 with AvD: +17 + d100 roll: +70 = +243
... and hit for 28 points of damage!
Jarring blow to the greater construct's back.
Your veil iron longsword twists in your hands, the pommel's base splits open and spits an incandescent crystalline vial out and onto the ground where it lands with a crystalline **TINKLE**.
A greater construct writhes in agony as some mana is stripped from it!
A vision of a young elven boy, no more than ten years of age, fills your mind. He is talking urgently with an older elven man, seemingly his grandfather, as he bounces gleefully on his lap. The ancient elf, his hair nearly touching the ground nods attentively, and tries to hide a smile. After a few moments of conversation, the old man chuckles and hands the young boy a small crudely-made veil iron longsword and shoos him on his way, challenging him with a question. The boy scowls and retreats with the longsword.
The vision focuses on the boy once more, this time however, it is a vision of him in his early adulthood at a ceremony. It looks as though he has just graduated from a magical academy. Instead of celebrating and taking some time to be with friends and family, he runs off to his home and immediately enters a special room. Centered in the middle of the floor is a carved wooden stand, and centered upon that is the plain longsword that the older wizard bequeathed the young boy. He concentrates mightily and chants an obviously new phrase. Finally, when it seems that nothing will happen, a small spark of power escapes his finger and seeps into the weapon. As it does, a small crack in the weapon fills in. The elf beams happily to himself, before collapsing in exhaustion and sleep the night away...
The elven wizard is trooping back home after the end of his workday, pocketed scrolls and flailing pouches rustling as he hurries home. Small grey streaks line his hair now and a wrinkle or two mar his otherwise smooth features. As he enters the same room with the veil iron longsword the vision focuses quickly on it. In place of the crude longsword, now sits a near perfect one. The wizard places everything he was carrying down first and pours himself a cup of tea, taking his time to eat and drink before approaching it. He sighs wearily and hums a chant. A bright flash of power enters the longsword and he collapses once again.
The same elven lad that has appeared before is present again, this time at an ornate funeral. His eyes are sad, but focused on the review of images surrounding his grandfather's life that are part of the intricate ceremony. The illusion shows all the good this particular elf did in his lifetime, including handing the small veil iron longsword to a young elven boy. Our elven wizard sheds a small tear for the man, but stands up and loudly exclaims, "Where is his legacy! There is naught !" He begins to cry in great sobs and hurries from the room, amid a mixture of pitying glances and angry stares.
The wizard is running back to his home still crying from the funeral. He enters the room with the longsword, then sits down and does nothing but stare. The sun and moons pass by through the windows many times in the vision, as the young elf just sits and stares. Finally he takes a deep breath, his eyes focused but more subdued, as if a decision has been reached. He chants once more toward the blade and falls to the ground in exhaustion again.
A few days go by, his normal routine restored, when the elf hears a knock at his door and answers it. A ruddy dwarven man enters the cottage and grumbles, obviously unhappy at being in an elf's home. The elf quickly motions his guest into the room, gesturing with the veil iron longsword. The dwarf grunts with an air of respect and admiration, nodding almost imperceptibly at the elf before kneeling before him, his eyes locked on the staff. He confers with the wizard, a bag of silver is passed between them, and he leaves. The wizard chants once more over the now perfect sword, which seems to glow with an intensity. The exhausted wizard sits down heavily lays his head to rest once again.
A vision of many seasons passing enters your mind as the wizard ages before your eyes.
The vision of the wizard chanting over the blade each night is a painful one, but the look of resolve and dedication is apparent in the elf's demeanor.
Another vision begins with the dwarf, aged considerably, returning and attaching an ornate gem to the veil iron longsword under the watchful guise of the elderly wizard.
The haggard looking wizard bends his head in thanks to the dwarf, his thinning hair standing out in great tuffs of grey. The dwarf asks him a final question to which the elf nods and let's loose a deep sigh, although the look of resolve returns to his milky eyes. The dwarf returns the nod with one of respect and leaves him quickly.
The aged elven wizard sits for a fortnight, without sleep or nourishment, in front of the veil iron longsword. Finally, on the last day he holds both hands out to the longsword, and voices a long and sorrowful chant. A blinding bolt of power leaves the wizard's hand and seeps into the weapon. As the power continually enters the longsword from the wizard, the sun and moons can be seen changing through the windows for another fortnight. Finally the wizard collapses in exhaustion once more, a barely audible whisper escapes his lips -- "Legacy" -- with his last, parting breath.
MB: 12 Mil
CB: 0