Thorns of the Rose

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Description

These arcane weapons are reasonably rare; they are powerful only in the hands of a warrior who combines a deep understanding of offensive magic, including the ability to cast the spell entangle with the puissant drive of the true hero. In the right hands, however, they are deadly. By binding an opponent in place with her magic, the wielder has several heartbeats in which she can use her advantage to deliver a crippling blow or a mortal strike.

Rules

• Form: A pair consisting of a One-handed weapon and either a rod or a wand
• Effect: Once per day when you entangle an opponent with this implement, you may spend one hero point to call IMPALE against that character with this weapon.
• Materials: Crafting the thorns of the rose requires twelve ingots of tempest jade, seven measures of dragonbone, seven measures of ambergelt, five ingots of green iron and five measures of iridescent gloaming. It takes one month to make a pair of these items.

You require both the ambidexterity and magician skills to bond to these items.

Belisari wove through the battle lines to meet the Jotun Chieftain in single combat. The bellowing Orc had demanded that one of their number stepped forward to face him, calling out their mightiest warriors so that he may slay them. He had already battered three other soldiers down, stepping contemptuously over them as he strode through the fray seeking a true challenge.

The barbarian laughed when the frail looking Cambion magi stepped forward, robes billowing behind him and the gentle chink of ornate glass mage armour almost drowned by the fighting around them.

“I swanted your best warrior” the orc growled, “not your strangest livestock.”

Belisari simply nodded and adopted a fighting stance, his curved sword pointed towards the orc while an ornate rod hung from his off-hand, resting gently on the ground. A sharp eyed observer would have noticed that the grass slowly browned and withered around the perfectly rendered ambergelt rose at the tip of the rod. The orc champion was not a sharp eyed observer.

The Jotun charged, axe raised and ready to bisect the fragile looking Urizen. As it drew closer Belisari could see human faces locked in a grimace worked into it the barbarian's breastplate; for a moment he considered the skilled craftsmanship it must have taken to so perfectly render the images until it became all too apparent that they were, in fact, actual human faces; cured and dried and stitched into the the armour. He did not allow his disgust to show on his face, turning it inwards, drawing strength from it. He began to softly chant the canticles of verdant entrapment, calming his mind and preparing to strike.

As the orc brought its weapon back Belisari suddenly jumped in to action. He leapt forward into a roll as the Jotun axe sailed over his horned head and he slapped the rod into the chest of the barbarian, landing softly behind the orc. As he did so he could imagine the invisible vines spiralled around the confused orc as it tried to follow him, spittle frothing in the corners of his mouth as he screamed fruitless curses at the magician to stand and fight.

Suddenly he fell silent. The point of the cambion’s blade thrust from the centre of the orc's chest; Belisari imagined the unseen vines blackening and dying and taking his enemies' life with them.

The orc body tumbled face first to the floor, as Belisari turned began to scan the battlefield for his next challenge.