Name: The Raven Basilards
Age: 2,215 Years
Race: Basilard
Length: 13.5 inches
Weight: 10.75 ounces
Physical Description: The Basilard is an ancient Eyropan dagger which saw widespread use as a sidearm during the Changer’s War. Though its design has long been replaced by more modern and efficient weaponry, many such blades remain in the hands of lower class criminals and thugs, leftovers and heirlooms all. That said, it is readily apparent that the raven blades were not designed for such lowlifes, as each of the three are works of art.
With the skill and grace of a master craftsman, a raven’s head has been sculpted into the weapons’ guards. Keeping with the theme of ravens, the hilts are a very dark grey to the point of being nearly pitch black. The blades are pearly white, tinted with a blue-purple color by their faint light.
The basilards are all identical but for the occasional nick or scratch.
Possessions:
The blades are a possession. They lack any of their own.
Powers or Strengths:
Telepathy: The basilards can contact those nearby with a weak telepathic voice. They may speak with their wielder all they like, provided they touch the hilt. The blades can also impart particularly strong feelings or emotions to their wielder. It is possible, though unlikely, the blades could outright command someone particularly weak willed, submissive, or otherwise vulnerable to the emotions of others.
Healing: The basilards can choose to heal any organic wound it touches. The healing process takes varying amounts of time contingent upon the size of the wound, but it never lasts longer than about ten seconds. There are various side effects to the healing.
- Being healed by the basilards does not accelerate natural healing or anything of the sort. Instead, it replaces the skin and bone of the wielder with tissue similar to that found in ravens. If a wielder lay dying, and the blade is forced to use a huge amount of power very quickly, the recipient will find that they will be outright transformed into a raven. Healing in more moderate and gradual amounts will only result in raven-like deformities at the afflicted area. Because it is replacing dead or removed tissue, it cannot cure disease or poisons without fully replacing the body.
The healing causes searing pain, limiting its usefulness in the midst of combat from a defensive perspective. Some wielders have used this side-effect offensively by inflicting minor scrapes and cuts for the express purpose of healing them, leaving their opponent is subdued by the unexpected, magnified sting.
Flesh healed by the basilards is immutable. Shape shifting of any kind after receiving healing from the basilards will result in the healed area remaining constant, usually resulting in the afflicted area tearing itself from the body. Few shifters have ever used the blades. The sole exception to this rule is raven and crow shifters, who will suffer no such ill effects.
The more a person has been healed by the basilards, the greater distance they can communicate telepathically with them. While the standard radius would be about three yards for whisper-like communication, a fully converted raven could be contacted anywhere in the entire city of Marn. Otherwise the distance tends to follow the equation (5yrds)+((x)cm^3 healed)(3yrds)=(Telepathic Range). Due to the initial five yard jump for any healing at all, certain past wielders have chosen to prick themselves slightly for ease of contact.
Knowledge of Swordplay: The basilards have seen a good amount of battle and could tutor someone in their use. While the training is very much a past style, it is still much better than no training at all.
Knowledge of History: The blades have been wandering around Marn for a long, long time. They have picked up on some interesting bits of information here and there. As an example, one of the blades was wielded by one of Belatucadrus’s underlings and knows the interior of Kaledin Manor and the truth of the denizen inside. Another has navigated the depths of the tunnels under Marn.
Neutral:
Night Strength: All magical powers listed are very slightly stronger than indicated at night, and very slightly weaker than indicated during the daytime. During midnight at winter solstice, the blade is at the height of its power and during midday at summer solstice, the weakest.
Weaknesses:
Old Blade: All the magic in the world can’t change the fact that these knives are very old. For all the ancient, tired protective enchantments placed on them, there is a decent chance that they will break. The blades are unsure what would occur to them if they were reinforced or repaired by a blacksmith, but have so far been unwilling to risk the process.
Objects: When it gets right down to it, the blades are incapable of doing much at all on their own. They are totally immobile and the only way they can interact with the outside world is their telepathy, knowledge and healing abilities.
Servants: The blades technically have the choice whether or not to speak with and heal their wielder. However, the very mental link which could allow them to overtake the weak willed goes both ways. The process is designed so that the blades are at a disadvantage. Even someone of average mental fortitude could command the blade to do or say something, and it would have no choice but to obey to its greatest ability. Due to the nature of the domination, the blades are incapable of exact-wording direct orders and must fulfill their master’s wishes as closely to the ideal as they can. It is impossible to unconsciously dominate the blades; willful mental effort must be spent to compel the blades in this manner.
Glow: The Raven Basilards emit a very, very faint blue-violet light at all times. While in the daylight such a glow is all but completely unnoticeable, at night or in dark places it becomes apparent that the blade is magical. In Marn, this could become a problem for any number of reasons. Since the light only appears around the blade itself, and not the hilt, a sheath could be used to hide the problem outside of combat.
Nightmares: The blade’s most recent wielder will have their current dreams overwritten. The new nightmares will be images of a gigantic raven devouring them alive. As time passes the nightmares become more and more violent and distinct, prompting some to abandon the blades entirely. The blades usually aren’t too happy about this eventuality, as they need a wielder to continue their quest to find the others.
Inherent Magic: It is talking blade. Arcane effects which work like a localized seal can negatively affect it in a variety of ways. Magic dampening slurs its telepathy and inhibits the blade’s thought processes. An outright nullification of magic would simply kill it.
Differences Between Basilards:
Blade of the Child: One of the basilards has acquired a host body in the form of a ten year old child, a former apprentice of Iarei’s with no name of his own. In addition, there exists two statues which gradually guide and brainwash victims. Those influenced by the statues are exceptionally weak to the basilard’s possession effects, suffer gradually decaying mental states, and will be drawn to its location whenever they wander without clear purpose.
The basilard often forgets to attend to the basic needs of its host body, having lived as an inorganic creature for centuries. The body has been left moderately malnourished and sleep deprived, and is weak even by the standards of a child. If the basilard is removed from skin contact with the boy, the boy will return to control of his own body. However, his mental state may end up permenantly ruined by either the possession or the statue.
Blade of Birds: Another basilard has converted a battlemage into a raven. This battlemage goes by the name of Quenta, and has been freed from Belatucadrus’ control through the acquisition of his new body. This is the basilard which knows the truth about Belatucadrus and possesses knowledge of the older battlemages. It is also capable of contacting Quenta anywhere in the city through telepathy, though what Quenta does in response to the Basilard’s conversation is entirely up to him.
History:
An ispoli, the giants who first inhabited Marn, bent over her forge. The glowing iron was fast approaching a cool, solid state and she had much more work to do. The hammer rose and fell, time and time again, shaping the metal into the desired shape of a basilard.
The corpse of a loved one lay at her feet, his countenance peaceful. His soul had been removed, and she had asked that his body remain with her. If the daggers worked, if they survived, she wanted to be the one to raise his skeleton. She would not allow the disrespect of any other performing the act, despite her meek skills at the dark arts.
She wiped a hand over her bald brow, the sweat of her constant efforts falling to the floor. She glanced to the side and looked at the other two knives as they sat peacefully upon the table, their bloody purpose still far from realization.
The forces of the east had summoned a monstrous creature. She had been tasked with the construction of their species’ salvation. It was she who first conceptualized these knives. They had required much sacrifice.
Much toil later, the final weapon was complete. Its ornate form belied its deadly edge, but such was the duty of ispoli weapons. Now it was time to begin the spellwork. She arranged the blades just so, and extended her hands. The tattoos which covered her from head to toe began to glow, arcane power flooded out from her and seized the basilards.
Later, in the middle of the day, the ispoli walked out into the cold winter air, the three weapons wrapped in sheep hide. She looked about nervously, for though the sun was high and the fort bright the invading Tian Xia forces could be heard from any section of the city. All the same, it was not they who were not the true threat; the undead would hold them off. But they could do nothing against the flying abomination which hunted them at night.
She turned her gaze to the weapons. “I hope you three are ready.” She said softly. Her eyes hardened at some unseen response. She strode off to the church to arm the warriors.
The creature was slain that night. Its blood ran red to the earth, and its shrieks were a call of hope for the rest of the ispoli. Yet their hope came too late, as the civilization was wiped out by the Eastern Empire, the forces charging through the gaps in the defenses the monster had caused.
The blades were scattered amongst the rest of the plunder. Mistrustful of the perpetrators of the slaughter, the weapons remained silent trinkets indistinguishable from the other enchanted weaponry the looters recovered.
Enduring a long period of separation, one of the blades were passed down from soldier to soldier serving in the fort. The other two were removed from Marn, to their great worry and disappointment. After a short few generations, they convinced their wielders to return them to Marn, one even claiming to be the spirits of the spirit of its wielder’s ancestors. When it was discovered this was not the case, it was buried in the earth of the Sooqui plains. Were it not for a fortuitous telepathic encounter with a western scout, an advance unit of the Eyropan army which eventually laid siege to Marn, the blade might have remained there for the rest of time.
At this point, two of the blades came together. The scout managed, in the midst of a war zone, to pry another blade from the hands of an Eastern soldier. Having long worried over the character of eastern soldiers, the blades were then much enthused over their liberation from the men who slew their creators. They informed the scout of their purpose, powers, and the dire need to locate the third weapon.
He never succeeded. His search saw him to an early grave, slain by another Eyropan soldier who sought to oppose the blades. The soldier stole one of the weapons and the scout’s ally, upon recovering the other, proved unreceptive. It seemed he blamed the basilard for the death of the scout, and refused to aid it.
Six hundred years passed as the weapons swapped hands, their reputation slowly but surely building. Every few centuries, a criminal, watchman or noble would be found with an old, raven themed sword by his side. Every now and again, they would appear with subtlety in a greater tale. It was enough for some to take notice, and taverns would whisper stories of the mysterious artifacts. Ignorance and superstition blossomed, and the truth soon became buried beneath a multitude of variations and retellings. Only a select few, their skin peppered with black marks, ever knew the full truth.
So it proceeded until Marn was abandoned by the west. As before, some of the basilards remained. This time, only one was carried off to a foreign nation. Two remained amidst the ruins, separate, and were eventually rediscovered by first settlers. Having come primarily from Eyropa at least one knew the old legends, now even more distorted than before, and though it took some time the rumors eventually set sail once again.
The next hundred and sixty years which have passed proceeded very much like those under Eyropa, bar the influx of puradyne mistrust which made it even more difficult for the blades to achieve their designs. Though the basilard did not realize the significance at the time, one was present at the writing of the tomes. It is a dire and deep irony that a being to whom magic is intrinsic witnessed the one of the most extensive denouncements of it on all Pal Tahrenor. Another would later find itself wrested from the hands of a criminal by a puradyne guardsman; upon revealing its true nature, it was taken to the government immediately and wielded by a battlemage. Over the course of this journey some eighty five years ago, it learned the interior of Kaledin and the shocking truth of its denizen. Thanks to power plays within the government, its presence was never officially recorded in any significant manner.
Eventually the battlemage was left mortally wounded in the line of duty by a lucky arrow. The criminals attempted to hide the body, but to their shock it turned into a raven and flew off into the night. They took the dagger, but being a superstitious sort quickly discarded it upon hearing its voice.
It was enough that a magic dagger had something to do with the death of a battlemage. Most disregarded the tale as mere superstition due to the legendary nature of the weapons and lack of proper records on it, but the rumors flew again like never before. Thanks in no small part to the panicked stories of the lowlifes, the tales retained their warped nature.
Today, rumor claims them to be weapons entwined with Marn’s history. It is whispered they were there at the beginning, and will be laughing at its end. An evil spirit rests within, quietly plotting the city’s downfall in revenge for the terrors inflicted upon the ispoli during the genocide while channeling the eldritch power of the very abomination which sealed their defeat.
Most know it as superstitious nonsense, but some say otherwise. Some say the blades are very real, and the truth is far greater than story could ever encompass. Only wielders of these ancient weapons can ever know.
