What's your favorite description of a magic item from the Baldur's Gate or Icewind Dale series?
HaHaCharade
Member Posts: 1,644
I think there's a lot of great ones... The story I always thought was the coolest was for the Lonesome Road, which is a two-handed axe sold by a merchant in IWD (Don't ask me why some of the best weapons are store-bought... that's always something I thought was kind of lame personally).
On a side note, when I DM'ed AD&D back in the day, I made histories for the items players found and would hand them to the person who got the item on slips of paper after they identified them - so you can definitely say I was influenced by Baldur's Gate! Players seemed to appreciate when items had some history attached to them, as opposed to -- "You find a Longsword +2!".
The Lonesome Road (IWD)
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This was the weapon of a cursed soul, doomed to wander the length and breadth
of Faerun for his crimes against the elves of Myth Drannor. Denell Harband
was a human involved with the creation of the "Halfaxe Trail." Under the
orders of his commander, Halvan the Dark, he forged ahead through elven
forests despite protests and repeated attacks. When he was finally captured
by the elves, he stated emphatically that he was free of guilt because he was
just following his orders. The elven council deemed that Denell be placed
under a High Geas to carry his axe from the Sword Coast of Faerun to its
borders in the east, and from the Great Glacier to Lurien. It took Denell
thirty years to complete his task. When he finished, he was an accomplished
warrior, weathered and beaten by years on foreign roads. On his way back to
his home, he passed by Harrowdale and saw a wooden statue of Halvan the Dark
raised proudly in a small town square. With a single-handed blow, he lodged
his huge axe into Halvan's forehead. Never breaking stride, he returned to
his hut where he lived out the rest of his days as a reclusive farmer.
On a side note, when I DM'ed AD&D back in the day, I made histories for the items players found and would hand them to the person who got the item on slips of paper after they identified them - so you can definitely say I was influenced by Baldur's Gate! Players seemed to appreciate when items had some history attached to them, as opposed to -- "You find a Longsword +2!".
The Lonesome Road (IWD)
----------------------
This was the weapon of a cursed soul, doomed to wander the length and breadth
of Faerun for his crimes against the elves of Myth Drannor. Denell Harband
was a human involved with the creation of the "Halfaxe Trail." Under the
orders of his commander, Halvan the Dark, he forged ahead through elven
forests despite protests and repeated attacks. When he was finally captured
by the elves, he stated emphatically that he was free of guilt because he was
just following his orders. The elven council deemed that Denell be placed
under a High Geas to carry his axe from the Sword Coast of Faerun to its
borders in the east, and from the Great Glacier to Lurien. It took Denell
thirty years to complete his task. When he finished, he was an accomplished
warrior, weathered and beaten by years on foreign roads. On his way back to
his home, he passed by Harrowdale and saw a wooden statue of Halvan the Dark
raised proudly in a small town square. With a single-handed blow, he lodged
his huge axe into Halvan's forehead. Never breaking stride, he returned to
his hut where he lived out the rest of his days as a reclusive farmer.
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The Pipes of the Wheezing Dragon (IWD2)
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When the venerable (and senile) red dragon Craum Straug wandered into the
logging camp of Hornhollow at the edge of Wood of Sharp Teeth, the residents
(wisely) fled in fear as the dragon began to belch flames, setting the camp on
fire and causing cries of alarm to spread throughout the countryside. After
the residents fled, Craum squatted his old bones down upon the blackened
buildings, grumbling to himself and snorting flames from his nostrils.
A few hours and several miles away, the residents of Hornhollow finally decided
that someone must go negotiate with the dragon and see what it wanted. When no
volunteers were forthcoming, a lottery was conducted - and the loser, a
traveling ministrel, Aznee Fraystrings, was given the dangerous task of
attempting to deal with the dragon. Aznee had lived out his welcome in the
camp many nights previous, and the loggers considered it no great loss if Aznee
gained a new home in the dragon's belly.
Aznee, somewhat absent-minded but of a brave heart, stumbled his way into the
camp, and finally mustered the courage to speak with the dragon. During the
(now-famous) exchange that followed, Aznee discovered that Craum, who was
somewhat far along in dragon years and in none too good health, was suffering
the draconic equivalent of a bad cough, and his hacking and wheezing masked his
plaintive attempts to try and find someone, anyone, who could help cure his
fits of coughing.
Seeing a solution, Aznee offered a cure that helped an elderly uncle of his - a
sprig of Maiden's Milk flower, that when crushed and administered in a tea,
helped quell coughing in a matter of minutes. Some could undoubtably be found
in the forest nearby, Aznee exclaimed, and he set about gathering up several
sprigs and preparing them for the dragon. After lumping them into a great pot,
he administered the steaming cauldron to the dragon.
It is suspected that either Craug drank the mixture too fast, or else Aznee had
mistaken Bellows Root for Maiden's Milk, but whatever the reason, Craug vomited
the mixture back out a few seconds later, setting fire to several acres of the
wood and torching poor Aznee where he stood. After this vomitus belch, Craug
ran wild for almost an hour, trying to spit out the remainder of the
concoction. At the end of his rampage, the venerable red dragon fell over dead,
the sudden flurry of activity more than his old bones could stand.
When the loggers came to break down the dragon a day later, they discovered
that Craum's bones still carried echoes of his coughing fits, and his entire
skeleton creaked and wheezed, even after death. They struck a deal with a
local mage, who bought the dragon's bones and fashioned a series of musical
instruments with them, dubbed the "Pipes of the Wheezing Dragon." These yellow
bone pipes are famous throughout the Realms and, when used by a bard, they can
be used to spit bursts of flames at opponents. Unfortunately, even when not in
use, the pipes tend to creak and wheeze, attracting the attention of anyone
nearby and making attempts at stealth and pick pocketing useless.
A thin cord made of dragon gut is strung through the pipes, so they can be worn
around the neck and can be easily played when danger threatens. The cord looks
charred, as if it was burned recently, and is surprisingly tough.
Bathed-In-Blood
Kheros the Red wore this blood-red suit of plate mail through many of the years that he fought for the church of Tempus. He was born as the son of humble farmers near Calaunt. When he was a young man, he set off for the city to hire himself out as a mercenary. After a number of successful endeavors, Kheros became a short-term member of many adventuring companies. Along the way, despite his many victories, Kheros became disgusted and terrified by the sight of blood.
His fear eventually spiraled out of control, consuming him with madness. Priests of Tempus found the huge warrior and took him into safe-keeping. The priests believed that they could cure Kheros of his fear. Over several years, Kheros learned the ways of the Tempuran religion, eventually becoming a priest. His final step in overcoming his fear was being submerged in a tub of blood until he almost drowned. All the time he was held down, he never struggled, flinched or tried to escape. In his later years, he had a suit of armor made to remind him of his past.
This ludicrously huge and heavy book - more a compilation of volumes in a single binding than anything else - claims to be an extensive manual on the "fine art of adventuring". Its many chapters include:
Henchmen: Loyal Companions or Seedy Pack-Mules?
Making Your Kit Work for You
101 Uses for a 10' Pole
Catapults: Yes, That's as Far as it Shoots
Getting the Most Out of Your Party's Thief
Today's Tinderbox - It's Not Just For Lighting Torches Anymore
Dungeons to Tackle:
Stinky Pieter's Halls o' Poorly Guarded Gold
The Caves of Soundly Sleeping Monsters
Archmage "Loose-Bowels" Wozley the Milksop's Enchanted Item Warehouse
The Wooden Citadel of Darmos the Old and Crippled
Uncle Fralin's Tool Shed
... and more!
Dungeons To Avoid Like the Crotch-Rot:
The Iron Fortress of Blodaz, Devourer of Souls
Dominara the Erinyes' Nine-Layered Brothel of Violent Emasculation (No Slaking... or Slating... Allowed)
The Crimson Hell-Pit of One Billion Miserable Deaths
Uncle Fralin's Bedroom
... and more!
Your Lantern and You
Twelve Uses for Twelve Iron Spikes
99 Uses for That Little Hammer That Comes With Twelve Iron Spikes
Face It, You're Actually 'Neutral Evil'
The King's Lovely Daughter: Look But Don't Touch
Don't Put Your Hand in That Dark Hole
... and over eighty more information-packed chapters covering all aspects of adventuring, from hoarding to spell-casting and bold heroics to arse-saving cowardice.
Light of Cera Sumat
The holy avenger is the paladin's ultimate weapon against the forces of evil.
There are few creatures on the Lower Planes that would not hesitate to confront
a holy warrior wielding such a weapon... and this one, perhaps more so than
others. Once, it was nothing more than a simple iron sword, but through the
courage and faith of one man, it became something more.
The blade of this holy avenger glows with a soft golden light. Inscribed upon
the hilt in flowing gold letters is "Cera Sumat," which translates into "Six,
now Silenced." Cera Sumat earned its name through the labors of elderly duke
Kholsa Ehld, a man cresting nearly eighty years of age, who vowed to complete a
task that the greatest warriors of three kingdoms feared to do... all because of
the weeping of a child.
The times in which Old Duke Ehld lived were ones of great upheaval, and the
servitors of Bane were strong, crushing all that stood in their way. Entire
kingdoms feared their wrath, and to speak out against them meant death, so many
remained silent and turned their eyes from the evils of Bane and his servants.
During these dark times, the most terrible of Bane's minions were six who called
themselves the Lost Followers. Their souls were storms of avarice and hate, and
mighty were the powers at their command. They reveled in strife and tyranny...
and for all the blood they shed, it was never enough.
Together, the Lost Followers brought about the downfall of the Silver Court,
slaying its king upon his throne and renaming his once-beautiful nation the
Barbed Kingdom. After animating his decapitated corpse and having it march
through the streets slaying anyone it could find, they brought a rain of fire
down upon the city and the lands around, leaving it a barren wasteland. It is
said that they dined in the capital's great hall that night as the land burned,
and they raised their wine glasses as the screams of the dying reached their
peak.
There was only one survivor. In their last act of malice, the Lost Followers
left the king's only daughter, barely five years old, alive to reign as "Queen"
over the burned kingdom. They called her the Weeping Queen and cast wards about
her so that she might never leave the empty capital, and then left her to
starve. Their appetite momentarily slaked, the Lost Followers parted ways and
went upon their separate roads of damnation, sowing strife in the Bane's Name.
Old Duke Ehld was the first one to cross the wards of the Barbed Kingdom and
seek out the Weeping Queen upon her father's throne. When he found the small
girl, he approached, kneeled before her, and told her he had come to pledge his
life in her service. In stiff, formal words, he said he had brought food and
water and apologized for his lateness, but his bones were old and it had taken
him some time to reach this place. The near-starving child stared at him as he
pledged his worn blade and his honor to seeing that the ones who had done this
terrible crime answered for their actions, if his Queen wished it. After a
long, stunned silence, the Weeping Queen found the words to thank him.
From the moment Ehld left the throne room in search of the Lost Followers, the
weeping of the queen ended, and she never wept again.
Over six years, Ehld traveled the lands of Faerun and across the planes
themselves, seeking the Six, and asking them to answer for their crimes. Each
scoffed at the old man and his worn-looking blade, only to find him a dangerous
opponent... and in the end, the victor. He recorded the events of their death
upon a stone set into the pommel of his blade, and there was even regret in his
writings that he had not been able to enlighten the Lost Followers to turn from
their path before it came to its end.
When the last of the Six had answered for their crimes upon the edge of the Cera
Sumat blade, Ehld returned to the Weeping Queen and laid the blade at her feet.
Where once it had been a tarnished blade, it shone as brightly as the sun, and
the stone in the pommel was covered with the writing of his journeys. He
detached the stone, and set into a chain, and he gave the Weeping Queen. Ehld
told her to keep the chain to wear as a reminder of the many evils of the world
and that they are never far from one's heart... but if one's heart is true and
one's path is righteous, one may triumph against any number of evils.
Duke Ehld outlived his queen, living to the age of 107, at which point Ehld took
his Cera Sumat and left the Barbed Kingdom... and is said to have traveled
north. In time, the Barbed Kingdom rose to its former glory and its name was
changed, and with it, the fate of Cera Sumat and the Medallion of the Lost
Followers was forgotten... until your arrival in Kuldahar and the medallion and
the Holy Avenger were united once again to meet the Lost Followers in battle one
final time.
But the story of Ehld and Cera Sumat was a story of another time, and of the
adventures of another hero. This is now your time, and your epic. If your band
counts a paladin among its number, then this ancient blade is yours to wield
against the forces of evil...
And perhaps, if your heart is true, save a land from destruction once again.
____________
And its medallion:
Perhaps the yuan-ti did not know what they held in depths of Dragon's Eye, but
simply holding this item reveals its long history to you, and its saga is a long
and bloody one indeed. One only needs to hold the medallion close to them,
close their eyes and concentrate upon it, and the chronicle of the medallion
scrolls through your mind.
This notched stone was once set into the pommel of the ancient blade Cera Sumat,
a Holy Avenger wielded by old Duke Kholsa Ehld as he walked upon the path of the
Lost Followers, challenging them to answer for their crimes in the Barbed
Kingdom. Inscribed upon the stone is the chronicle of his search for the six
Lost Followers, and the circumstances surrounding their deaths. The medallion
tells of the six:
Ehld met Inhein-Who-Was-Taken as she slept beneath the earth on the Battle of
Bones and asked her to follow him to the Barbed Kingdom to be judged. Her
laughter was a storm of bladed whispers, and she cursed the old man, hurling
spells of death and flame upon him... she surrounded herself with mighty magics
and swirling blades, daring the old man to come close, but he simply bowed his
head and took shelter within the spiritual shield of his holy blade. In fury,
she risked much and began to raise the dead from the Battle of Bones to destroy
the Duke, but the shield around him prevented them from getting close. The
undead, furious at their summoner for putting them to an impossible task, turned
upon their mistress and tore her apart. Ehld took what was left in a small
metal cask and took it to the highest hill at daybreak, and let the sun shine
down upon Inhein's remains until they were dust.
Broken Khree, one of the only monks to fight the Black Raven in combat and
survive with only his legs shattered and his jaw splintered, was the next of the
six, and he was not hard to find. He had gathered together a band of slaves
captured from a number of small farming hamlets and had them build a temple in
Bane's name. Khree was a master of unarmed combat, with eyes and reflexes so
quick that he could dodge most missiles and spells before they stood a chance of
touching him - and he had sent many archers and mages to their graves. In hand
to hand combat, he was a terror, for his bones and body were one with the
elements, ignoring fire, cold, lightning, and weather's other displeasures, and
while his skin could be stabbed or cut, his bones had the strength of the earth
about them, preventing them from being broken or crushed by all but the most
powerful of attacks. Ehld knew this, and when he found the bloody monk, the two
traded no words, but attacked each other immediately. It was all Ehld could do
to dodge Khree's attacks, but in a dangerous stratagem, Ehld tricked Khree into
collapsing the newly-erected temple of Bane around them, causing Khree's arms to
become pinned by the falling masonry. The monk died as the falling crossbeams
of the temple pierced his chest, and in the last minute of his life, he spat his
defiance against Ehld and told him he would fight his way back from death to
destroy him.
Kaervas Death's Head was the lord of an empire deep within the earth, and he sat
upon his lava-red throne of rock and lava, his skin so thick with calluses and
black enchantments that no mortal weapon could pierce or cut it. Ehld traveled
many leagues beneath the surface of Faerun and demanded an audience with the
black rock king. Kaervas, amused by the old human's challenge, agreed to fight
him, but found Ehld's strength and holy avenger an equal match for his strength
and skill. Finding it almost impossible to strike a mortal blow against Kaervas
with even his holy avenger, Ehld parried one of Kaervas' strikes and turned the
momentum of Kaervas' own axe back on its owner, causing the blunt end of his
mighty axe to sink into the dwarf's skull, splintering the bone beneath the skin
into fragments. The Duergar allowed the human who had slain their king to leave
unmolested, and they sealed Kaervas' body in the throne room where he died.
Atalaclys the Lost traveled upon the great sands of Anarouch, hoping to unearth
some of the ancient magics buried within the desert to stave off the rotting
disease which had claimed him. Ehld tracked him down through the shifting
desert, meeting him in the sandy square of a dead town. With no living creature
as their witness, the two of them fought for days, spell against blade for days,
until at the height of the fourth day, Atalaclys's rotting throat cracked in the
desert heat. Unable to utter a spell to carry him away, Ehld left him in the
desert, where his corpse lay, fed upon the flies and beetles of Anarouch.
Jaiger of the Fanged Season had once been one of four Uthgart brothers whose
father had blessed each of them with a binding of the elements. Jaiger had been
bound to the Elemental Plane of Air, and such was his power that he could
harness the wind to pull his bowstring - and cause the missiles and spells of
his enemies to go astray. Jaiger was serving as a mercenary in one of the many
southern kingdoms, his bow firing out a stream of arrows so fast and sure that
he was said to bring a Rain of Death wherever he traveled. Ehld found the
toothless barbarian within the brothels of a southern port, half-drunk and
belligerent. When confronted, Jaiger was too deep in his cups to realize who
Ehld was, and once it suddenly sunk in the old man had come to capture him,
Jaiger tried to fight back with his bow - only to find it much more difficult to
fire with his opponent standing almost on top of him than it was when the
opponent was a horizon's distance away. Although Jaiger sunk many arrows into
his opponent, Ehld was able to best him with a whirling strike that severed
Jaiger's bow... and the barbarian's throat.
Veddion Kairne, the Hunched Lord, was the last and most difficult of Ehld's
challenges. Kairne was said to be the spawn of a storm giant and a demon,
combining the great strength of his father with the cunning and bloodthirstiness
of his mother. No fork of lightning could touch him, no fire could burn him,
and it was said that he bathed in acid and frost as if it were water. The two
bloods coursing through him had given him a tremendous resistance to magic, but
it prevented him from using magic himself, forcing him to walk the face of
Faerun whenever he wished to travel the land. Instead of awaiting his death,
however, he sought out Ehld as he was traveling upon the Spine of the World
Mountains and tasked the old paladin with proving him guilty of the slaughter in
the Barbed Kingdom. The two of them dueled with words for many hours atop the
Spine of the World Mountains until Ehld finally tricked Kairne into admitting
his guilt... and the Hunched Lord laughed and their battle begin. Hurling
jagged boulders at the elderly warrior, Kairne buried Ehld under an ever-growing
mountain of rubble, then lifted up his hammer to drive the tombstone into the
makeshift cairn around the old warrior... only to have the cairn collapse
beneath him, causing an avalanche and crushing him beneath its great weight.
Ehld, who had been crouching within the cairn and using his sword as a brace
against the precarious balance of rocks, had slipped free and let weight and
gravity take their course. With Kairne, the last of the six had been silenced,
and Ehld returned home to his Queen.
When he arrived in the court of the Barbed Kingdom, Ehld detached the medallion
from the pommel of his Holy Avenger and gave it to his Queen to wear as a
reminder of the many evils of the world... but if one's heart is true and one's
path is righteous, one may triumph against any number of evils.
If this medallion could somehow be brought to the resting place of Ehld's Holy
Avenger, the blade will rise from the ground, ready to be taken up against the
forces of evil once again.
________
Both are incredibly epic.
And, on a lighter note, Dykhast!
Ancient dwarven legends tell of a time when the noblest of metals was not
dwarven steel, nor meteoric iron, nor mithril, but dykhast - an alloy so strong
that a blade's edge would never dull with toil or battle, and with a surface so
perfect and gleaming that its shimmering surface could be seen a dragon's flight
away. The oldest of dwarves speak of dykhast blades with tears of fond
remembrance in their eyes, and callously spit at the mention of the "sundry weak
and piddling'" metals that today's arms and armor are fashioned from.
There are rumors, though, of an ancient and secret temple called Chogoh Kyn - it
is there, the tales say, that blades of dykhast are still made in the fashion of
days long past. The price may be high, but for the true connoisseur, there is
no matching the glory, the perfection, the utter joy... of dykhast.
Places to loot: Uncle Fralin's toolshed. Places to avoid like the crotch-rot: Uncle Fralin's Bedroom.
Face It, You're Actually 'Neutral Evil'
Lawrence Lilarcor was well known, not for being brave, but as an idiot. As
the tale goes, the boastful Lilarcor left his village at the urging of his
friends so that the "great hero" could do battle with a devious Treant. He
walked for days in the dead of winter until, feverish, he found his target
and began an epic wrestling match. Unfortunately (or perhaps luckily), the
"Treant" was nothing more than a craggy old normal oak. His friends had been
jesting, not actually expecting that Lilarcor would go fight the fictitiously
dangerous tree. That might have been the end of it, but Lilarcor, not really
knowing what a Treant was in the first, didn't realize the truth. He
eventually uprooted the oak and, marching proudly home, he declared himself a
hero. Thus was born a laughing stock of epic proportions, and over time the
name of Lilarcor became the sacrificial fool in many tales of "less than
brilliance".
It is not known whether this enchanted weapon is Lilarcor himself, perhaps
imprisoned by an evil mage or some other odd coincidence of fate, but it
certainly acts in a manner consistent with his level of competence. If it is
he, he has never bemoaned his captivity. He might not realize, or care, that
he is no longer a human.
As a weapon, Lilarcor has its uses, but many a warrior has eventually given
it away. Banter such as "Ouch, that musta hurt", "Oh yeah! Got 'im good",
and "Beware my bite for it might...might...might really hurt or something" is
a constant barrage on a warrior's psyche.
Happens to be in this first game as well.
Short Sword +2: 'The Whistling Sword'
Amidst the plains of the Eastern Shaar there lived a small human blacksmith, whose nearly dwarven height did not do his soul justice. Though a skilled weaponsmith, his true gift was his ability to whistle a heartfelt song that could cause a grown man to cry like a newborn. Only a reclusive mage shared and enjoyed time with the diminutive man, however, as others could only see his small size as a source of amusement. Deaf to the smith's song because of their own prejudices, their ridicule slowly grew into cruel torment which eventually persuaded the light-hearted man to leave his home forever. Before he left he forged this weapon as a gift for his one friend, who also enchanted it during the making. Thus the blade sweetly whistles to its wielder when unsheathed. It was not long after that the mage also deserted the small town in disgust, taking the sword with him on his journeys.
"Over time, the assassin's fame spread, and though his name was never known, all knew to fear the words last heard by his victims: "You can hide, but you cannot run!"