Post by Rhyldrin Ken'rae on Oct 20, 2014 0:21:26 GMT -5
Jiv’ellg and Treemma, a pair of heavy claws that have nearly as much reputation as their wielder. Fellers of monsters small and large, deflectors and godly powers and cupid’s arrows alike. Since the drow himself had fallen further into the embrace of the undead and the depths of their sick and twisted world Rhyldrin’s powers had increased and mutated in unimaginable ways. When combined with various items his power could be dissected, merged and then turned into it’s own source power. This source would not only increase the existing attributes of the item in which it was merged but would also bestow similar negative energies. Of course much trial and error had gone into merging his malignant soul with various objects and weapons before the process had been harnessed and perfected. It was within the hidden enclave beneath Rhyldrin’s Black Recluse shop in Navahla that the final experiments, at least with his pair of physical weapons that were known as the tormentors of his enemies, would begin with the atypical violent storm thrashing the city raging outside.
Several schools of magic would be utilized to complete the transfer of powers and anchor them within the weapons. Runes, Sacrifice, and a couple of lesser known and probably illegal… one definitely illegal, were those very schools. The blades had been sharpened and polished for several days by the drow himself, every centimeter or metal honed to perfection before he moved onto the rigging. The leather had been replaced with dragonhide of the most expensive and durable quality with metal shielding and several additional days had been spent ensuring the straps not only fit his hands but molded to his muscles even as they moved during use. The buckles and clasps had been replaced with Adamantite ordered and reorder to beyond particular specifications. A special etching tool made from Adamantine has also been procured in order to carve the runes into the spine of the blades.
Patience, a virtue he was not always known to have, flowed from the fallen drow like never before. It was one thing to decide he had waited long enough for pleasure or sustenance, but the very forging of one’s legacy was something completely different. So much time and patience was put into the actual etching of the runes that it took over a month, several hours each night, before he was satisfied they were sufficient. The time it took was due, in part, that he started out with small runes and then expanded to ensure that any mistakes could be corrected. Once the runes had been completed along all three spines of both weapons he began to prepare for the ritual that would transfer some of his fell powers into the blades themselves. They wouldn’t be alive, perse, in that they wouldn’t have a mind, a consequence or even a will of its own, but would thrive and breath in death. They would be more than just extensions of his mind and body, they would be bonded with his own will and powers, becoming a part of him.
The ritual took much less time than the runes and spell preparation themselves. Once the components had been gathered: some of his blood, several vials of distilled malignant soul, a living person…. or four, the weapons, and of course Rhyldrin himself, the real fun began. Thankfully time wasn’t a factor in completing the ritual, as there wasn’t really any potions or brewing involved, because the dark one certainly took his time to ensure no mistakes were made. No one really knows how much time Rhyldrin was down there, whether it was also for the pleasure of the four people and their endings, or simply the workings of a mad, but brilliant, black mage. However, in the end the Legacies of Jiv’ellg and Treemma had grown stronger, were certain to endure long into the future and were now more than just mere weapons of the trade.
Several schools of magic would be utilized to complete the transfer of powers and anchor them within the weapons. Runes, Sacrifice, and a couple of lesser known and probably illegal… one definitely illegal, were those very schools. The blades had been sharpened and polished for several days by the drow himself, every centimeter or metal honed to perfection before he moved onto the rigging. The leather had been replaced with dragonhide of the most expensive and durable quality with metal shielding and several additional days had been spent ensuring the straps not only fit his hands but molded to his muscles even as they moved during use. The buckles and clasps had been replaced with Adamantite ordered and reorder to beyond particular specifications. A special etching tool made from Adamantine has also been procured in order to carve the runes into the spine of the blades.
Patience, a virtue he was not always known to have, flowed from the fallen drow like never before. It was one thing to decide he had waited long enough for pleasure or sustenance, but the very forging of one’s legacy was something completely different. So much time and patience was put into the actual etching of the runes that it took over a month, several hours each night, before he was satisfied they were sufficient. The time it took was due, in part, that he started out with small runes and then expanded to ensure that any mistakes could be corrected. Once the runes had been completed along all three spines of both weapons he began to prepare for the ritual that would transfer some of his fell powers into the blades themselves. They wouldn’t be alive, perse, in that they wouldn’t have a mind, a consequence or even a will of its own, but would thrive and breath in death. They would be more than just extensions of his mind and body, they would be bonded with his own will and powers, becoming a part of him.
The ritual took much less time than the runes and spell preparation themselves. Once the components had been gathered: some of his blood, several vials of distilled malignant soul, a living person…. or four, the weapons, and of course Rhyldrin himself, the real fun began. Thankfully time wasn’t a factor in completing the ritual, as there wasn’t really any potions or brewing involved, because the dark one certainly took his time to ensure no mistakes were made. No one really knows how much time Rhyldrin was down there, whether it was also for the pleasure of the four people and their endings, or simply the workings of a mad, but brilliant, black mage. However, in the end the Legacies of Jiv’ellg and Treemma had grown stronger, were certain to endure long into the future and were now more than just mere weapons of the trade.
