Lately, I've been suffering from a lot of burnout. Making headway on any of my personal projects has been hard, while writing has proven even worse. I could write a blog post about this—it wouldn't be the first time—but I think that it would be better if I compromised and did something fun instead.
I've done far too much reading. Too much consumption. Now is the time for creation, and hopefully a good six months of blog posts to show for it—quality be damned.
This is where we'll begin.
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| I will update this list at a later date. List by @faithschaffer on Tumblr |
SWINE COME QUICK: a bronze grip-tongue sword with a carved gourd for a handle. The inlaid is vaguely reminiscent of autumn, but it'll gladly expound upon some the details if asked. Can be attuned by burying it in a pile of fresh produce overnight, then summoned by expending a ration, whereupon it sprouts wings and rushes to your hand.
WHERE BLOSSOMS GROW: he is a light falchion (+1) of glassy steel. Its guard is rounded and made of cobblestones, which shiver and pop as it is swung, and occasionally sprouts weeds. Knowledgeable of burial rites in several cultures. If an inch-wide cut is made into the ground and a command word is spoken, a trail of flowers will guide you to the nearest cemetery.
OUR LAST HOPE: she is a heavy zweihander (+3) of pure adamantium, beautifully inlaid with lines of gold, silver, and platinum. An elvish parable has been inscribed along the weapon's length, detailing the ancient hero who once wielded it against evil. Shines with immeasurable daylight when drawn, turning undead and dispelling even magical darkness. Currently embedded within a stone, waiting for an ancestor of the hero to retrieve it, and under the protection of a small clergy.
A CRUEL FATE: same as #3, but ebon splotches have warped the sword's appearance, like oil slicks on asphalt. Spasms violently on occasion. Unsheathing the sword plunges whatever room it was drawn into total darkness. Currently half-buried in rubble underneath a sepulcher, where the clergy have barricaded the entryways.
FARM DOG'S ODYSSEY: It is a medium xithos (+1) with a mycellium skin. Seemingly made entirely out of mushrooms, which grow shorter & more thin as they approach the "blade". Can be carefully folded into a cube (1 slot), and consuming any part of the weapon forces a Save Vs. Violently Orgasmic Hallucinations.
WHO GOES THERE?: she is a light rapier with a silver blade & brass accessories. Speaks in a thick cockney accent, which she uses to point suspicion at everyone or everything she doesn't intimately know. Lighting the blade's tip causes it to glow with the strength of an oil lantern, which lasts for 10 minutes, and smells faintly of lemongrass. Can be replenished by soaking in olive oil or whiskey.
LOVELY NIGHT MARE: they are a light khopesh (+1) of bronze alloy. Inlays of electrum run along the weapon, resembling a series of rivers. Someone has (rather poorly) embedded diamonds into the hilt, which now pulsate in the dark. Soft-spoken; rather friendly, if not a bit monotone. Can "scoop out" someone's dreams by cutting through their reflection. You're not stealing them—it's divination.
___ WARNING ___: It is a heavy shortsword (+2) of carbon steel, ejected by a star suffering from acute iron poisoning. Originally a spear, but later reforged after it snapped in half upon striking a mountain. Attempts to communicate with the wielder through a series of complex runes, heptapod style, which project from the blade's surface and onto the walls & floor. Wishes to be reunited?
FISH HATE MORTALS: he is a medium cutlass of seaglass and leather, caked in barnacles. A relic of an ancient (aquatic) civilization. Doesn't speak your language, and even if it did, it wouldn't like you. Sinks in water when held (but otherwise floats). Counts as a +1 sword when used underwater, and +2 if the target is a landlubber.
ORDER REQUIRES PREREQUISITES: she is a heavy backsword adorned in gold, platinum, and silver. The blade itself is cold iron, with irregular lightning bolts running down its length. Secretly desires to be a mace instead. Commissioned by the court and never intended to be used, but was later enchanted by a wizard after realizing that they overpaid. Contains a pocket dimension which holds every proposed law of the court in the last 50 years.
GENTLEMAN'S DUE DILIGENCE: they are a heavy spatha of velvet accents with coal-black fullers. The family heirloom of a war-loving culture. Can be split vertically into two light blades (+1), which deal half-damage to—and automatically parry attacks from—anyone expect the person wielding the second sword. Bitch and moan at each other while combined, but flirt aggressively in use, like Morticia & Gomez Addams.
ALMIGHTY UNCONQUERABLE THERMOGENESIS: she is a light scimitar (+3) of brass and elemental-treated gold. One of the many blades forged for—and disposed of by—the great Sultan of the City of Brass. A skilled poet & vizier, she is not unhurt by his rejection. Always on fire. Yes, even the hilt. Can cut through flames bigger than its wielder in order to create a portal to the Elemental Plane of Fire—not always safe portals.
WHO SAW THAT?: he is a light jian (+1) of jagged, never-melting ice. Fragile. Cracks along the flat parts of the ice are razor-sharp to the touch, giving the sword a working edge. Speaks like a disillusioned wizard; an old man, sick of the world's shit. Look through the blade to see through illusions and spot ghosts and, if placed in a pool of water, it will melt and turn into a scrying pool. Can be restored by chucking the hilt into a snowstorm (or something equivalently cold) for three days.
SECOND CASE SCENARIO: they are a medium koncerz, overwhelmed with tubes and machinery. A trigger-guard is embedded in the hilt, various gauges and transparent gizmos adorn the guard and piping. Can be held in half-sword when wielded in two hands, providing armor-piercing and triggering the device. On hit, inject a dose of poison (2x total, hand-loaded). Contains a dose of Basilisk Oil when found.
- LOUSY JUDGEMENT CALL: it is a light broadsword made entirely of glass. Fragile. The handle is an complex basket-hilt, like a chain of tubes, with visible markings where the glass was sealed off. Inside the "blade" sloshes a reddish-brown fluid which, when shattered, explodes violently, unleashing the air elemental contained within. The original blade—a "master mold"—remains in an unfinished state: variants of the weapon are currently being mass-produced.
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