Now then, since this has been stagnant for a while and we want to boost activity, we'll start up a nice new auction for the masses!
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Reddish orange bled over the Dehlosian marketplace as the vendors cried out their last ditch efforts to draw in buyers. The more doubtful salesmen huddled around the darker corners of their tents and waited for the surge of window shoppers to pass before they emerged from hiding. Their wares were not for gawkers. Men and women sifted through the stalls like sands through an hourglass. The last vestiges of daylight ebbed away.
"Ah, my friends," called one of the shadier vendors as he emerged from his stand and approached the stragglers of the group. "Come, come, I have something to show you. For the right price, this can be yours..."
He pawed at a tightly wrapped, elongated object carefully before he slowly unraveled its bindings and unsheathed the skillfully crafted weapon for inspection. The silvery blade shimmered faintly in the eventide, reflecting the gentle song therein. "She came to me a fortnight ago, but I have no need of such a thing. I would love to see her in the hands of a skilled swordsman, but the gold is admittedly more important. Such is the life of a merchant, no?"
The merchant quickly slipped the weapon back away before anyone could touch it, then glanced around knowingly. "For you lot, I start bids at 500 gold. Have fun and keep it friendly, efendim."
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Stygian is a Mithril longsword crafted in time immemorial by a Raiaeran swordsmith who's name has been lost to obscurity. In addition to it's natural fortitude and innate mystical proclivities, the blade holds a deeper enchantment that was sung into its craft by one of the ancient High Bards.
In darkness, it glows with a faint light that provides the bearer visibility within teen feet, and faint light outside of that for another five. This cannot be stifled.
Its song resonates from deep within, and those with magical training or understanding can hear it if they concentrate. It can be invoked thrice a day/thread by utterance of the word "nightfall." Doing this will cause anyone who has been struck by the weapon within the past ten minutes to become intoxicated by "the darkest night," a nightmarish evil from Elvish lore. This state causes them to lose their wits and become thrall to the bearer of the blade for twelve hours. They will obey any command short of something that directly endangers their life.
Happy Auctioning, Althanians.
Do I hear 500?
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