Sorrow

Information compiled by Celtar and Madmountain.

Description

a massive vaalorn sword

Properties

Some years ago at one of the grand pavilion auctions, Celtar saw a two hander come up and Bankur won the bid on it. He waited years for this blade to come into his hands, keeping track of its owner and whereabouts. Finally he owned the weapon, and it has indeed caused him much sorrow. Hence the name he has given it.

Sorrow is male. He can be deadly to the wielder. The sword starts at +18 (must be level 9 to hold). The Attack Strength (AS) increases as the wielder trains. Celtar at level 18 was getting a bonus of 36. The brighter the pulsing light the more charged up the sword is, with blinding being the brightest.

Bonding

Possible start message

The sword suddenly bathes you in a warm red light, pulsing with your breaths in a hypnotic rhythm.

Fully bonding with Sorrow takes 180 days:

You feel the sword submit fully to your will.

Loresong

[VERSE 1]

The first thing you notice is that the sword is of normal weight for a weapon of its type, yet there is something irksome about its feel in your hand.

[VERSE 2]

The sword suddenly turns on you, lashing out!

The sword starts to pulse with a dark rhythm, drawing you closer. You begin to feel your soul weakening as you start to submit to the bidding of the sword. Rage builds within you driving you bezerk!

[VERSE 3]

An aura of great magic surround the sword, its vibrations lashing back at the sound of your voice. The sword begins to vibrate in your hands, nearly uncontrollably. You realize with a start that this weapon has a life of its own.

Merryleon struggles to hold on to the sword as his sings.

[VERSE 4]

As you sing, you sense resonant vibrations coming from the sword, matching pitch with yours. Soon a harmony is achieved, and a brilliant display begins to materialize before you...

Dark skies loom overhead and thunder-bursts roll though a blackened valley. Two lone figures stand locked in mortal battle with monstrous blades. War songs fill the air, brilliant flashes of lightning obscuring your view. When they have cleared, the battle is at an end, one of the fighters impaled upon his own sword. Suddenly a horrible shrieking deafens you, as the fallen figure is seems to be consumed by his blade...

[VERSE 5]

Your breath becomes labored as you try to coax yet more out of the sword...

Images race past with unbelievable speed! Foes falling in battle... Friends turning against each other... Thousands of faint voices, echoing through the sky... Hundreds of years passing in mere seconds... All the while a horrid screaming fills your ears. As you attempt to delve deeper into the sword's history it suddenly lashes out at you!

You are stunned!

[VERSE 6]

The sword suddenly bathes you in a warm red light, pulsing with your breaths in a hypnotic rhythm.

You learn nothing new about the sword.