Rare and Unusual Weapons

Mikilos mutters absently to himself, off to the side of the guardhouses, out of the way of general traffic. That's fairly normal, so far as the wizard goes. Less normal is the halbred he's swinging around. Not that it's a particularly weird halbred, it's just, not the sort of weapon you typically see a wizard practiceing with. The tall elf does seem to have a fairly decent idea what he's doing, far as that goes.

Seldan isn't paying any particular mind to that, on this morning. Looking far, far better than he did the last time Mikilos saw him, the paladin runs up the stairs and across the bridge, dressed in loose and sweat-drenched shirt, trousers, and worn boots. His hair is soaked as well, and his chest heaves with exertion, suggesting that he has been running for some time.

Malik, for his part, is down on the ground, not putting in nearly as much effort at Seldan is, and looking far less sweaty in the process. He watches the man run across the bridge, shouting out, "That's almost 100," though not in a way that suggests he terribly approves of this choice. Eyes glancing over to the halberd-wielding elf, he raises a curious eyebrow, though can't help but look amused. "A curious choice."

Mikilos blinks absently, recognizing that he's been addressed, but takes a few moments to conenct the words to meaning, and from whom they came. Peering a moment, the elf gestures to be clear his intention before tossing the weapon to Malik. "What do you think of it?" A curious question, from a curious guy.

Halfway across the bridge, Seldan stops, wiping sweat from his brow. "Nearly a hundred more than you have done, Malik," he calls over to him, a grin spreading across his features at the challenge. His hair is out of his face, finally, held by a simple silver circlet, but he makes no attempt to remove it. The toss of a halberd gets his attention, though, and he leans elbows on the wall of the bridge, watching. "Mikilos, good morn to you. That is new."

"A decent weapon, in the hands of someone practiced with them. Useful against horses and those not terribly light on their feet, though not my personal choice." He rolls his eyes at Seldan, handing the man a waterskin. "You could stand to do a few less, as well," he tells his companion gently, though turns his attention back to Mikilos. "So long as you can avoid just swinging it like you're trying to chop down a tree, and learn how it can be leveraged, I think you'll be fine. Though you might examine other choices. Polearms are well and fine, though somewhat limited in application."

Mikilos nods to Seldan, then to the blade in question. "Take a look, see what you think of it." He grins, nodding to Malik. "Can't say I have plans to go into combat with it myself. If I need to resort to melee weapons, something has gone wrong. I'd intented to get the opinion of a guard I know," he nods to the nearby guardhouse "but turns out he has the day off."

Seldan gratefully takes the waterskin and drains roughly a quarter of it before lowering it, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist and handing it back. "I spent far too long down, Malik, and it helps work off the soreness." He is weary, though - that much is obvious in his lean. When Mikilos draws his attention to the halberd, he turns, then straightens, eyeing the blade with interest. "I was unaware that you crafted weapons, Mikilos. May I?"

Malik takes the weapon, looking over the craftsmanship as he tests the weight in his hands, balancing the thing on the back of his palm. Taking a step back, he gives the thing an easy twirl, spinning in place as he brings the butt of it low, under the feet of an opponent, then coming back around to stand over them with the spear tip pointed. It seems that he knows which end goes where, at least. He nods his approval, handing it back over to Seldan. "Functional. Weights a little too far forward for my tastes, but that's easy enough for anyone to fix with a simple band of metal at the back>"

Mikilos blinks, frowning mildly at Seldan. "I'm a master weaponsmith, favoring longswords. I craft a wide range of items, though typically it's easier to purchase from one of the local smiths and focus on enchanting. A good quality item is a good quality item, even made by the hands of someone else." He nods at Malik's accessment, and waits for Seldan's take.

Seldan does a similar routine to Malik, stepping away from the wall to do his assessment, but nods. "It is a good enough weapon, but Malik is right, it is balanced forward, and it is heavy. A challenge to wield well." He offers the weapon back to Mikilos. "If you craft longswords ... I should like a word, later. I have ... something of a mystery on my hands, and Her Temple has been less than helpful." That's a very loaded statement, although politely put.

Malik adds his own thoughts back to the mix. "It's still a good weapon," he tells the man. "Probably best for those that prefer its use. I think that many of them tend to favor the forward-heaviness, and you chose a nice wood. Flexible, yet strong." As Seldan talks about having a mystery on his hands, though, Malik goes quiet again, listening to the other two speak.

Mikilos nods, taking the weapon back. "I agree with both of you. It's also got too high a sulfur content in the metal, and the curve of the blade is too low." He sighs, frowning a moment, then breaks into a grin. "But it does offer a bit of insight into what a salamander thinks is a good weapon design. I mean it's by no means bad, but I think the average salamander is quite strong, and tends towards thrusting strikes rather than sidelong swipes. So the design makes sense." He blinks a moment, then clarifies. "A salamander made this for me." Blinking again, he focuses on Seldan's other words. "A mystery? Quite a few of those going around, but I'd be happy to offer what assistance I can."

"A salamander made it? Was that why you sought to learn the fire language?" Seldan's eyebrows go up in surprise, and he peers at the weapon with new interest. He nods at the question about the mystery. "It is not one that should be spoken of, here." He looks over at the guardhouse, "nor do I have it with me." Indeed, he doesn't have any weapons or armor with him at all, right now. "I have been given a family heirloom that is more than it appears to be."

Mikilos waves vaugely. "I've known the language for years, but was brushing up on some technical lingo for this, yes." He nods, frowning mildly. "Anything that leaves a family intact enough to become an heirloom can't be too awful, but have run across some with intresting curses. I take it is more a 'huh that's odd' sort of thing than anything drastic?"

"I do not -think- it is a curse," Seldan says quietly. The gusty wind and chill are drying the sweat from him fairly quickly. "But I would not say that its effect was not drastic. I will need to fetch it, so that you may examine for yourself. Will you walk with me?" It is very plain that he is loath to explain here.

Malik coughs a bit when Mikilos concludes that whatever the problem is, it can't be drastic, trying his best to stifle that laugh underneath.

Mikilos quirks a brow, and nods. "Certainly. But as the city is standing, we may have different views of 'drastic.'" he clarifies with a small smile.

At Malik's attempt to stifle a laugh, Seldan's own grin returns. "It created something of a problem, that much is true, but it is not evil." With that, he turns to walk.

Some time later, Seldan has retrieved from the Temple of Eluna a longsword in a sheath, and has cleaned himself up to some degree in the process. This he takes out to the fountain in the temple square, and unsheathes it for Mikilos to look at. Its style and make is of exceptionally fine quality, easily good enough to enchant, but it is very, very old in style, with a carved pommel and a hilt unusually shaped. It was made by a loving hand, some ten or twelve generations of men ago. The edge on the blade and the leather grips both appear to be very new, new enough that they have not seen combat.

Malik watches the sword with curiosity. He's spent enough time with the thing that he doesn't fear it, but the look on his face says that whatever's happening with the thing is well beyond his ken. He does lean over to Seldan, though, telling the man "Clean clothes were a good call." Because that's about as helpful as he can be, right this second.

Mikilos eyes the blade critically before nodding his approval. "A fine weapon. I'd guess from my gradfather's time, maybe a little before. The hilt stirs some memories but I'll have to think on it a while. i take it does more than look nice when you try to weild it?"

Seldan's eyes lower to look critically at the blade himself. "The Sight shows me nothing of it, and I do not detect any evil in it. And yet, the first time I touched it ... a wash of a thousand thousand voices hit me. Some arguing with one another. Some old, some young, women and men, of many faiths and none at all. All trying to speak to me at once. I remember nothing further ... and awoke three days later, far from where I touched it."

"Since then ... I know of spells that I do not remember studying, and the ways of a blade that I was never taught. Her inquisitors think me possessed, and I cannot say them nay for certain."

Malik looks a bit sympathetic at the last part, looking to Mikilos and adding a thought. "I've seen him throw lightning," he tells Mikilos. "Using Varshana's Method." Which Mikilos, being well-educated in arcane matters, would know has been abandoned since before his grandfather was born, and is only taught to modern wizards as a curiosity in the power of concominant runework in spells, and certainly something that sorcerors are unlikely to pick up on their own.

Mikilos mmms, nodding mildly. "If you -think- you're possessed, you're very likely not. Either you know for certain, or aren't allowed to consider the option." He nods to Malik. "I'm going to guess it has some sort of symbolic meaning to your family? Worn by the eldest male heir, symbol of the House for generations, that sort of thing?"

"Mother says that family legend holds that the blade remembers every wielder it has ever had, and might show its power to one worthy, but that it has never happened. When she gave it to me, it had been blunted and was but a wall ornament." Seldan shrugs, examining it closely. "I do not think that she believed the legend, but - it may well be true. It has not spoken since, or done anything in else. All the same, it is a fine weapon, and I had thought perhaps to try my hand at enchanting it, to see if it might be more."

This time, Mal frowns a bit more deeply at the idea of enchanting the thing. "I would be careful, were I you," he tells the man. "You've already seen what can happen when you mix magics that weren't meant to be mixed. And this is clearly incredibly old. We might not even know what actually lies within, or how it's hidden."

Mikilos nods. "Ancestral weapon. They've existed for centuries, but have never been common. Not strictly weapons, by the way, all sorts of items can hold powers of the ancestors. I've encountered a few in passing, but can't say that I, or perhaps anyone, really understand them." He considers a few moments, and nods. "I'd be very cautious with enchanting it. I suspect it has some level of it's own will. Maybe not a mind or spirit, as such, but a.... desitny. One that might not care what happens to you along the way." The elf sighs, thinking. "I'd...spend time with it. Meditate with it on your lap. Keep it close when you sleep. It;s centuries old, it make have a very different view of how swiftly things are happening. For whatever reason, it chose you for -something-... give it some time to let you know what."

Seldan stares down at the blade, considering it in thoughtful silence, then nods and sheathes the blade. "I will, and my thanks to you. An ancestral weapon -" He trails off. "It has been some time since last we spoke. Has Hun'rar spoken to you, of what he was able to learn about Zeheir?"

Malik looks up to Mikilos as he mentions ancestral weapons, eyebrows raising a bit. "I thought those only existed in nurse's tales?" He looks a bit stunned that the man would even suggest such a thing, but looks to the blade as Seldan sheathes it once more, a slow realization coming over him. "You're sure?"

Mikilos considers several moments. "Alexandros is a strange place. Such items are rare, but I know several exist in the city. You might try seeking out an owner and looking into their own insights... though the only ones who spring to mind are likely not good examples." To Malik, he smiles, and shakes his head. "No, not certain that's what this is. But I'm quite positive they do exist." Turning focus back to Seldan again, he shakes his head again. "I don't believe so. Something of intrest, I take it?"

While the others talk, Seldan is quiet, thinking over all that has been said. Only when Mikilos asks about his question does he mentally shake himself and look up. "Zeheir is gone - he turned himself into a lich to continue his work, and was then destroyed. He found that record, mis-filed. But, he may have a living descendant, perhaps a son, in the city, by the name of Dylan Hunt. I have set about learning whether he is here in Alexandria, or perhaps elsewhere." He sighs. "He was also about to learn that the white tower appears to be fixed at one point, somewhere in the far north, Possibly near the tribal village of which his recording spoke."

Mikilos starts to speak, hesitates, frowns, considers a moment, and starts again. "The magus Zeheir built his Shard Tower over a thousand years ago... any son, or grandson, or great grandson, would be long dead.... *IF* it wasn't for the whole 'jump though time' thing. -With- the time jumping... well, anything is possible." He sighs, and nods. "I suspect, but don't know for certain, that She, the current owner, is somehow tied to that village."