Song of Swords: The Blade of Peace

A princeling went to war one day, beautiful and bold in his armor of gold. To prove himself he went, to claim the lands of his father's foes and weave his name into the tapestries of history. Beyond the borders of his father's lands he rode, and beyond the knowledge of kith and kin went the princeling.

Time passed, and to the forge of Kailel, chiefest smiths, came a maiden slight and fair. "Oh smith!" she cried, casting at his feet a purse of gold. "Grant to me a boon, that which will fetch my brother home."

"The price is too great." Kailel  thrust out his hand, denying the girl her boon. "Away, your brother is lost."

"Oh smith!" she cried again, casting at his feet the circlet of her rank. "No price too great. Grant to me that which will fetch my brother home."

"The price is too great." Once again, Kailel thrust out his hand. "Away with you."

"Oh smith!" she cried, taking from her belt a little knife, "No price too great!" Her braid she cut, and cast at Kailel's feet, "For love of my brother, I will go. Grant to me that which will fetch him home again."

With heavy heart, Kailel turned himself away, "I will grant what you ask."

A princess  went to quest one day, in a gown of gray and green. For the love of family she went, and in her hand a bright blade gleamed. Beyond the borders of her father's land she rode, and none marked her passing.

A sabre light and razor sharp, the Blade of Peace bears simple adornments, a series of lodestone teardrops pointing towards the eight winds rest in the flat of its blade near the simple handguard.

Despite its lethal edge, the Blade of Peace is useless as a weapon. Instead, the songs woven into the steel from which it was forged turn aside all but the most cunning of attacks. When wielded, the Blade of Peace grants a +3 bonus to the wielder's Armor Class.

Additionally, when pursuing the heart's desire the Blade of Peace acts as a compass of sorts. It will always point the truest path, though not necessarily the safest.

The Blue Sun

Thrice round the room the blue sun slipped

With a dip and a spin and a flash

And Into Shadow nimbly skipped

With the ring of a saber's clash  

-- From the Bladesong of Forgemaster Kelail

A sturdy +1 shortsword, the Blue Sun bears its namesake, a gibbous moon depicted on the flat of the blade in a single sapphire the length of a man's middle finger. Much like the moon from which it takes its name, the Blue Sun sheds false light, obscuring the wielder in shadow. The wielder is always treated as one step higher (or lower, depending on system used) AC than armor and other bonuses normally allow.

Elahn's Tears

Busy week! Life and church have kept me away from the internet, so in apologies, have a magic item for your preferred retroclone.

Through the dusk shadowed wood the youth staggered, trembling fingers clutching at his stomach. As he stumbled on, ink-dark blood spattered the trail, one that lead back to a ruined village, ravaged by the Forgehounds of Khor. Barely more than a boy, he had stood with the men of his village, and now, the poisoned shards of a Warsmith's dagger burning in his gut, he would die.


Against a sturdy oak he sank, breath ragged, brow beaded with fevered sweat. Just a child, a simple boy with dreams of his own good earth to tend, he had not dreamed of war, and yet, when war came he fought as courageously as any knight. Just a child, and already his life ended.


"Mama." A sole word, a plea to one who had soothed his fears and mended each wound. It came unbidden, the farmboy's arms curling around his stomach. Head bowed, he closed his eyes, a spasm of pain ripping a cry from his throat. The world dimmed, and he knew no more.


When awareness returned to the boy, it came as a sense of comfort,  its form a simple wooden cup pressed to his lips.


He drank, the cool liquid suffusing him with a sense of calm, the burning talons of poison loosening their hold on his body.  He drank, and as unconsciousness overtook him once more, a gentle hand stroked his hair, a soft, earthy voice humming a lullaby once had calmed him when storms raged about his home. At peace, he slept,  the chalice clutched between his hands...


Elahn's Tears

A plain chalice of wood, unadorned by mark or script to signify its true purpose. A gift of Elahn the Allmother, the chalice now passes from owner to owner, bringing comfort when most needed.


Elahn's Tears' true purpose becomes manifest when its bearer is in dire need. Should a bearer of Elahn's tears be mortally wounded, the chalice fills with a sparkling liquid. This liquid restores 2d8 hit points, and neutralizes any poison or disease the bearer suffers from.

Once the chalice has been used, it vanishes from its bearer's possessions, reappearing elsewhere in the world to ward a new owner, for a mother's love is never bestowed solely upon one child alone.