#I gladly will become cinder
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captainkurosolaire · 4 months ago
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~ X Marks Th' Spot ~
'Cause they matter... ...N'... I see now... I matter... I understand, I'm th' treasure, You'll pay fer keeping me from them.
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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months ago
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scar with a gn! Reader that’s crazier then him :3 (headcanons please)
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You probably caught a glimpse of him one day could feel this chaotic and intense energy about him, which would’ve been enough to have anyone making the smart decision to leave while they could.
for you however, it was more or less the opposite and it wasn’t long before you’d actively tried seeking him out, causing chaos and discord however you could just in the hopes of getting an audience with the man known as Scar.
You knew of the stories that have been told about him but you didn’t care and instead found something to bond with him over; wanting to watch everything go up in smoke as the fires blazed on well into the night.
Scar saw you both as kindred spirits, people who saw things as they really were whilst everyone else was more or less content with living in ignorant bliss.
If anyone were to call your love deranged or unstable, Scar would gladly destroy them in whatever ways he felt suited them best, as he went on a triad about how yours and his love was a genuine, one of a kind love that couldn’t be replicated because people didn’t have the same passion for destruction and desolation like you two did.
So in his eyes, anyone else’s definition of love was false in comparison to yours as yours stemmed from an obsession that bloomed from a simple glance.
Scar would preach whilst holding you close as a village burns to cinders that you were soulmates, two halves of the same soul that were forced to live separate lives because you were deemed too powerful of a force when together. so they had to rip you both apart while they could to preserve their definition of ‘peace.’
Your dates were…unique to say the least, such as participating in his experimentations and misleading good and well meaning people for fun and laughing when they come back a monstrosity of their own creation, as you’d let them believe.
You: would you burn everything for me? Would you even kill thousands for me my dearest Scar?
Scar: I’d do so and much, much more, charred corpses that would try to take you away from me, try to persuade you into leaving me or even exist within the same space as you will be used as an cautionary art piece; an example for everyone else that they’d too would suffer a similar fate made purely for our entertainment.
*he grabs at your face and leans in real close* they are merely mortals fooling themselves into thinking they’re smart enough to speak upon issues regarding those of a higher power and purpose. Do you hold me in the same regard, my desire?
You, leaning your forehead against his, looking deep into his eyes that were unusually soft in this moment: if I had it my way there’d be no one left alive to look at what’s mine. I’d rip out my own heart if I could to prove that it only beats for you and you could do whether you’d like with it for as long as you want. Cage it? Destroy it? Preserve it for all time always? My heart is yours to toy with.
You truly were a match made in a demented, morbid version of heaven.
Scar would probably test how much you love him by making you do the most morally questionable shit known to man, if you succeed, you’ve proven your love was genuine but if you failed, then he guesses you didn’t love him as much as you declared you did.
However once you’ve become scar’s, you were forfeiting your freedom in order to shape yourself into being the prefect lover for him, however that was the plan to being with wasn’t it?
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sp1resong · 1 month ago
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i have once again written a song [lyrics under the cut]
[ONE]
There's a difference 'tween what we are and fundaments of our cells Damned resistance Joy is found in what we make of our hell
Some insistence An empty cage, repeating verses Stained existence Our nature of broken, hollow curse
There's blood in my eyes The searchlights start to look like angels We never will die Like frogs or effigies we boil
To fall by your side Knowing gladly you'll return the favor Who needs holy light When we can savor this salt taste forever
Lightning shapes our sight Our ballad is my vicious laughter Look at the sky A song we'll savor ever after
Look at the sky! Wouldn't you agree my rage is Look at the sky! A gilded war-cry for the ages
Look at the sky! This moment cast immortal as we Tear through the night Take no prisoners, show no mercy
Look at the sky! Eternal, immortal, forever alive! Look at the sky! Higher than the gods we defy!
LOOK AT THE SKY!
[TWO]
There is something in my bones Beneath my heart, it's made a home The only home I choose to know Is in not reaping what I sow, and
There is something in my skin I feel it writhing deep within I'll claw it out, initial sin We know not where these hands have been, and
There is something in my blood A premonition to the flood I am an angel, I'm a god Dragging our names all through the mud, and
There's something stuck in my hair I am empty and I am scared I am alone, there's nothing there This will not hurt, I swear I swear, I
Lie, I'm lying all the time I have committed to the crime Without a reason or a rhyme Beg for a miracle when thy
Apocalyptic storm is nigh I dare not look thee in the eye An empty street, we look behind, It's over now, goodnight, goodbye!
[THREE]
Turn my head to the view 'cause there's no sign of blue Like the blood that I drew When I fall, will I too Stain the cinders that hue Nothing new, nothing new Nothing new, not for you Not for you, falling through
There's nothing here to see Bloodied hands, 3 for 3 Not what you want to be Not what I want for me I am not, I am not I am not, I am not I am not, let me rot Let me rot, take my shot
Holding a smoking gun To what I have become Scorching gaze, crimson sun In the end, left with none We are one, we are one We are one, we are one We are one, this is done This is done, this is done!
And the smoke stings my eyes Though my tears have run dry And I care not to try As I fear not to die Not to die, not to die Not to die, now to die Now to die, out of time Out of time, out of-!
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cryptidclaw · 2 years ago
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I just wanted to share an interesting plot line idea I came up with for one of my AUs and I just thought you’d enjoy!! So I was writing an AU and I really didn’t want to have Cinderpelt stay a med cat but I needed someone to fill in for her place as Yellowfang’s successor so I decided to have Thornclaw (her brother take her place). Thornclaw is so interesting to me because he hardly ever has an personality defining moments but both of his sisters were horribly injured so I thought what if when Cinder was injured he started sleeping in the medicine den to keep her comfortable and while he hung out in there during all of his off time and he starts to pick up on healing and starts to grow fond of the idea of helping cats instead of hurting them (and he loves he idea of being able to keep his family alive and healthy). Once Cinder is all healed she’s allowed to go back to warrior training and Thorn, Bracken, and Bright all help develop different hunting and fighting moves to accommodate her limp. Even though Cinder is no longer in the medicine den he still lurks around trying to observes what Yellowfang is doing to the point where Yellow starts to take an interest in him and watch him more closely, wondering if he might be a future apprentice. Thorn continues warrior training but then Bright is injured and Swift is killed. Swiftpaw was his best friend and Brightpaw his sister and he refused to go with them to hunt the dogs. Thorn feels horribly guilty and appalled that Starclan could let such tragic injuries befall both of his sisters. Once Bright is in a stable condition Thorn informs Yellow of his decision to become a healer. At this Yellow (who in this AU doesn’t die until the battle with BloodClan for narrative purposes) had long been awaiting Thorn’s apprenticeship to her and gladly accepts him. Thorn becomes a healer apprentice and eventually gets his healer name, Thornspring (because -claw is too warrior-y and spring can represent new growth and healing and a new path). At this point on Thorn and Cinder basically swap roles and Thorn is killed by badgers instead of Cinder (who receives the warrior name Cinderhop). That’s really all I’ve got rn but I thought it was really fun.
Oh this is so fun!
It would be pretty interesting to see a cat like Thorn be a med cat!
I was tempted to make Cinderspark a warrior in my au, but I love her as a healer too much hehe
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RWBY AU 2!:
Been awhile for this, anyways, I need to know how to make a masterpost for my stuff too, if anyone could help gladly appreciate it, but to the AU.
So I was inspired by notmaplemable’s story of Jaune the Ginger Whisperer, and one aspect of it. Different team leaders, so hear is the drift same teams different leaders. Even fake teams too. But team names will stay the same okay because I an too lazy to search for new colors.
RWBY’s new leader is Blake Belladonna, why? This is actually pretty explainable. So Weiss would first not like this same, like in canon. But here comes the biggest change, the drama between Blake and Weiss at the start when Blake accidentally reveals her status as a faunus. Weiss would have been more angry, at Blake for being the leader, especially as part of the race that in her eyes at the time was lesser. Eventually making Volume 1’s finale more emotional than it was. And the other thing is if she is leader she would have to learn to be more outgoing and active. As for team chemistry the pairs are different: Blake and Weiss, Ruby and Yang are the pairs.
Team JNPR was a bit harder, so I thought for a while. Then came the realization of who it should be, Nora Valkyrie. Other than Jaune everyone on his team could have fit, but Ren is a water downed Blake in this AU if it was him and Pyrrha would have been interesting though she would have to die to make it even more fun.
So why Nora? Easy, she would have to learn. Learn that being a leader is more than leading a team in battle. Realize that she has the burden of keeping everyone together, not allowing them to die, and build their relationships between others. Nora would have to go through some of the most development to lead. Pairings are still the same.
So let’s talk about Volume 3’s ending in this AU.
For team RWBY: Instead of Yang losing the arm it is Weiss because they are the pair in this AU, note just because Weiss is losing the arm does not mean she will be Blake’s main romance. Ruby still defeats the Grimm and Cinder on Beacon Tower with her silver eyes. And Yang is injured but not to the extent of Weiss, she would be at home recovering after the battle.
For team JNPR: A lot of the canon material is gonna be changed for this. Instead of Pyrrha dying it would be Ren, why Ren easy this AU does have Maidens, so Cinder still becomes one, so Ren is killed by Cinder at the tower in an attempt to stop Pyrrha from going to fight her, in which he succeeds in stopping her. Nora would be so vengeful due to Cinder killing her crush/brother. Pyrrha would have been so devastated because she couldn’t save him, and that he sacrificed for her. And Jaune would be silently grieving for he always considered Ren to be his brother.
Note AU’s I make you could use and rewrite them!
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scipiosmith · 2 years ago
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I wont lie. Its kinda a bummer to get as far into sapr as I have (volume 2 chapter 13) only to recently learn you're a rwde poster and seemingly think comphet is cool and fine based on how blacksun is in here. And maybe that will change later, and I will gladly apologize for being wrong in that count, if something happens where they realize they're not good for each other. Cuz despite my better judgement I will keep reading because I am unfortunately invested and in it for the long haul, unless some especially egregious opinions are expressed through the text.
You have a good writing style. And I do admire your commitment writing (and then re writing) so god damn much for this story. You're ability to integrate the MLP characters and what I assume is side lore into the story is very well done that sometimes I cant tell who is an OC, an mlp character( unless I already know of them) and who is from the comics I havent read.
But like. Idk. It's just kinda disappointing? That a talented writer and someone I thought was alright generally, turned out to be a little bit shitty.
But then that's the nature of people. To disagree on some fundamental things are natural.
I suppose I should thank you for not going the whole hog and calling me a homophobe, but on the comphet thing... I appreciate that this is the only work of mine that you've read. I appreciate that this fic has BlackSun in it, and I appreciate that at the point in the story that you are up to there aren't any queer ships.
But I have written a book with a lesbian lead whose girlfriend walks into the underworld to rescue her from the Furies.
I have written SunLight fic.
And eventually, and already in the un-rewritten version of this story, Sunset is going to get/has gotten together with Cinder:
So I would appreciate it if you didn't label me like that just because one story has a ship that you don't like or doesn't have the queer ship you wanted.
On the topic of RWDE then, yes, I am more guilty in that regard, although I wouldn't call myself a poster so much as a reblogger.
I suppose I can appreciate why that might bother you, but on the other hand if I wasn't RWDE inclined then this story wouldn't exist. If I didn't hate the death of Pyrrha then this story would not exist; the whole reason I started writing this story that has become as long as Jormungandr and has as many legs as a centipede is because I couldn't find any stories that didn't kill Pyrrha off at the end of Volume 3 and so I decided that I would have to write one myself.
For better or worse, this is a story that has its genesis in my dissatisfactions with the show; obviously you hadn't noticed it up until now and hopefully you won't notice it in the text subsequently to this, however... if you're expecting at some point the scales to fall from Rainbow Dash's eyes (or Blake's, for that matter) and for her to realise that General Ironwood is and always was a thoroughly despicable villain then I'm afraid you'll be disappointed.
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etruatcaelum · 4 months ago
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Salem is just leaving the kitchen when the seer alerts her to Tyrian’s brief return to consciousness; she hurries. He’s crumpled again once she comes back the greenhouse, now sprawled face-down in the moss beside the prosthetic stinger he’s (she lifts an eyebrow) bundled up in her cloak.
Well. So long as he’s comfortable.
Stepping past him, Salem sets the shallow basket of offerings from the pantry down upon the work-table, then rolls her pen between her fingers while she thumbs through the half-filled journal she’d collected from her study. Precise sketches of grimm and esoteric diagrams labeled neatly in a thorny script that no one else in the world but Ozma would know. Here and there, more substantial notes—several pages taken up by her fretful hypothesizing after what Ruby Rose had done to Cinder atop Beacon tower—and then a series of rough diagrams she’d sketched while she figured the safest way to fulfill Cinder’s unexpected request for a grimm arm.
(In hindsight, Salem thinks dismally, she should have asked more questions. Not that she regrets her decision to acquiesce, but if she had understood earlier why Cinder wanted it…
Maybe the debacle in Atlas could have been avoided. But she tries not to dwell too much on what ifs.)
Everything she intends to write seems to evaporate the moment she arrives at a blank page, and Salem stands motionless for a while, pen poised indecisively against paper, trying to corral her thoughts again. It feels like an ineffectual effort, but after several minutes she does manage—haltingly—to begin.
She is reminded at once that she hates writing common in the modern script. It’s slow, arduous work made all the more unpleasant by the standardization of spelling a century or two ago, with contrarian rules that leave her mired in doubt that she’s spelling anything correctly; and even her most careful penmanship is… poor. Legible, but poor.
Frustration simmering under the surface, she grits her teeth and writes:
I apologize for frightening you. Do you recall what I told you earlier in the evening, that words do not come to me easily? I did not mean just that I do not have your eloquence; it is and has always been difficult for me to speak, in particular without preparation, and sometimes it becomes impossible. Nothing you said or did upset me in the way that I think you assumed—you did nothing wrong—it is only that I had already spoken rather more than I expected, and on such occasions the slightest difficulty can—as you saw—overwhelm me quite abruptly.
It isn’t your fault. To answer your question, I am certain Summer would appreciate your condolences, if you wish to give them. (She encouraged me to go to Vacuo tonight; I think out of equal parts concern for your well-being and irritation with my paralysis. I feared you would not wish to see me.)
I would like you to try to eat a little. I’ve brought water and a variety of choices; I have no expectation that you will eat everything, or even manage a full meal just yet, but please try a mouthful or two of something, at least. I will gladly sit with you if my presence helps.
There’s a steady pounding in her temples by the time she finishes, but Salem exhales and pushes her awareness of the pain to the back of her mind as she sits gingerly beside Tyrian, journal tucked into her lap. Tentatively, she reaches over to brush a few grimy strands of hair out of his face, then closes her eyes and settles in to wait.
At some point during her absence, he rouses - delirious, he isn’t sure where he is or how long he’s been out. All he knows is that he’s lying on a bed of greens in an unfamiliar location next to - potatoes? oh, I'm home, it's been so long I forgot the look - and that his tail hurts.
Oblivious to the Seer’s presence, he claws at his prosthetic, removing the stinger and the metal sleeve to reveal his natural tail (well - mostly natural, now, save for the stinger-and-some-inches that had been entirely amputated and the metal connecting rods that had been surgically added in regular intervals along the remaining tail’s plating).
He smooths a thumb over the little ‘W’ carved into the end of the prosthetic, at a point furthest from the stinger, and then can only think storage before he tugs the blanket off of his shoulders and wraps the prosthetic gently inside of it.
(Only much later on down the line will he be able to recognize the ‘blanket’ as Salem’s cloak, but in his current state, he isn’t even aware he’s in a greenhouse, let alone able to question where the ‘blanket’ came from.)
The pain hits him again only when he’s done - he hisses and hugs his biological tail to his chest, the stingerless limb gathered in his arms like a great length of rope. He hadn’t removed his prosthetic as often as he knew he was supposed to, so even though he’d maintained the medical device and kept it clean and shining and functional, his natural tail had suffered.
Delirious, still, he lets it go, shifts to move carefully onto all fours, his tail forced to stand up and in the air to keep it off the ground, thinking only in his feverish haze that he can't let them see him like this, that there must be a water source somewhere that he can soothe his tail with, that there'd been a well, over by the-
What little energy had worked its way to the surface is extinguished and he collapses to the ground again, back to sleep, and lets his tail fall.
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(In his dream, he is indeed back home on the farm, his father pressing a cool cloth to his forehead and his mother a watchful presence in the background. “Why won’t you eat, Riri?” she asks. “She’s okay. Please, please eat. Don't punish yourself like this.”
He blinks and there are fingers threading through his hair, working it free of the braid. Arthur chastises him gently - “You won’t get better if you don’t eat something, dear” - and when the doctor pulls away to grab a bowl, Tyrian whines for the missing contact, surging forward to get closer. "Alright-" Arms around him, food can wait, for now. "Alright."
He blinks and he’s floating down a river and the water is cool and his body feels heavy and light at the same time and something holds him under and he doesn’t know if he’s being drowned or baptized but still he doesn’t fight it.
He blinks and he is alone and there is no mother, no father, no farm, no sickbed, no Arthur, no river. The darkness is his body and he closes his eyes and yields to it.)
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mighty-ant · 4 years ago
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Launchpad 2.0, Part Two
Part One
Waking up on a cold concrete floor is a relief. Even more so is Darkwing’s face, furrowed brow and all, hovering over him. 
“You’re alright,” Double-O-Duck breathes, before he even takes in his surroundings. A risky move, but he knows he’s safe with Darkwing beside him. 
Darkwing’s eyebrows rise, surprise flickering over his face, before he nods.
 “Left my hat behind,” he grouses, and that’s when Double-O-Duck knows he really is alright, despite the condition he saw him in last. Darkwing offers him a hand up and Double-O-Duck gladly takes it, pulling himself up to his feet. A truly terrible headache is radiating from his right temple, a result of all the falling and blunt trauma he’s inflicted on his skull. The pain crescendos briefly as he stands before dipping into a more tolerable registry. 
The cell F.O.W.L. has put them in is identical to ones they threw him and Dewey into half a year ago. Concrete floor, cinder block walls, and a single metal bunk jutting out of one side. Unlike the last time, there’s no clear mode of escape. 
“Well,” Double-O-Duck sighs, hands on his hips, “that could’ve gone better.”
Darkwing moves, almost too fast for him to follow. 
He grabs fistfuls of Double-O-Duck’s jacket, shoving him against the wall of their prison with such force his head bounces on the stone, doing no favors for his headache. But Darkwing pins him in place, and with his face scant inches from his own he snaps, “Who are you?” Each word is sharp, his tone biting, in a way Double-O-Duck hadn’t thought Darkwing capable of. “Who are you, and what have you done with Launchpad?” 
Double-O-Duck’s mind spins and not just from his concussion. He gawks down at Darkwing, uncomprehending. “I-I am Launchpad.”
Darkwing shakes his head once, sharply, and his gaze burns through Double-O-Duck’s. The leather of his jacket creaks in Darkwing’s grip. “Launchpad doesn’t know the names of high-level F.O.W.L. agents. I don’t know the names of high-level F.O.W.L. agents,” he sneers, incredulity warring with disgust as he gives Double-O-Duck a once over. “As far as doppelgangers go, I would’ve expected better from F.O.W.L. You didn’t even get his accent right.” 
Double-O-Duck’s heart gives a pang, painful against his sternum, and the cavern of his ribcage aches with bitter guilt. He was too eager, too ready to leap back in the fray as Double-O-Duck, that he hadn’t considered how Darkwing would accept the change. It was one thing for Dewford not to question it, he thought they were in a video game after all. But he’s been supremely unfair to Darkwing, his partner, his boyfriend. His rage comes from a place of care, and that alarms Double-O-Duck as much as it warms him. 
Moving slowly, he covers Darkwing’s hands with his own. Darkwing tenses beneath him, his glare intensifying, and Double-O-Duck knows that if he doesn’t hurry, he’s liable to be on the receiving end of one of Darkwing’s admirable right hooks. 
“Darkwing,” he murmurs. “Drake.” He watches his partner flinch, the fear flitting across his face painful to watch. “You have a Darkwing lunchbox with a dent shaped like your face. I had the same one growing up, but yours was special. In your trailer, on the day we met, you told me that you hoped you could inspire some other kid out there, like Darkwing did for you.” 
Halfway through his second sentence, Darkwing begins trembling. His eyes move furiously over Double-O-Duck’s face, his expression vulnerable without the shadow of his hat to obscure it but at the same time maddeningly blank. He’s never had so much trouble reading Darkwing’s emotions before. 
Darkwing gives no indication that he believes him, much less that he’ll release him. Double-O-Duck feels desperation welling in his throat, a fledgling terror that he’s become too different for Darkwing to recognize. As his calm frays, words trip ungainly off his tongue in his desperation to convince Darkwing. 
“We lit a candle on the bay for Jim,” he says in a rush. “You accidentally beat up a group of movers when Dewey and I first visited you in St. Canard. Gosalyn likes it when we sing her lullaby but she pretends that she doesn’t…” Double-O-Duck’s clever tongue fails him, and he stares down at Darkwing with a million and one memories hanging in the air. 
“I-I don’t know what else to say,” he manages to stutter. 
Darkwing isn’t looking him in the eye anymore. “No,” he mutters at Double-O-Duck’s chest. “No, I believe you.” Darkwing releases his jacket with excruciating slowness and steps back, hands trembling at his sides. Before Double-O-Duck can feel any sort of relief, he says, “You have Launchpad’s memories, at least.”  
Double-O-Duck’s last reserve cracks and he throws his hands in the air. “Because I am Launchpad! I already told you—”
“You haven’t told me anything,” Darkwing cuts him off, his jaw tight enough that Double-O-Duck’s own aches in sympathy. “Not why you don’t sound or act like Launchpad. Or know things he doesn’t.”
Darkwing’s right, of course. Even with Double-O-Duck’s enhanced intelligence, he’s still the smarter of the two. Double-O-Duck isn’t getting out of this without an explanation, one he never considered having to give. Part of him thought Darkwing would gladly accept this new version of himself, no questions asked. Maybe if he’d hidden the accent. 
But things are what they are, and he supposes answers are in order first. 
“I am Launchpad,” he begins. “I wasn’t replaced or brainwashed or anything of the sort. I knew about the F.O.W.L. base and how to infiltrate it because I have been here before.”
Darkwing’s eyes widen behind his mask. “When did you—”
“Months ago,” Double-O-Duck interrupts with a sweep of his arm. “Dewford and I were playing secret agent in a virtual reality that would become all too real. By the end, he was convinced everything had been part of the game, and my memory of the incident was largely erased.” 
“That explains how you knew Steelbeak,” Darkwing says slowly, before gesturing at the whole of him, “but not all...this.”
“Yes, well…” Double-O-Duck rocks back on his heels, uncertain of the quickest way to go about this. “Last time, I was accidentally hit with an intelligence enhancement ray. Steelbeak meant to rob me of what little smarts I had but instead increased it a hundredfold. My reflexes are sharper, as I’m sure you noticed, and my mental acuity is next to none.”
Darkwing just gapes at him. It takes him a hard blink and a shake of the head, before he says, “I’m sorry, back up. You’re saying a F.O.W.L. weapon did this to you?” 
Double-O-Duck rubs the back of his neck, discomfort prickling down his spine. “Well not a...a weapon, exactly, but yes I suppose you could call it—”
“The gun in the storage room.” 
He looks up to meet Darkwing’s hard, inscrutable eyes.
“That was it, wasn’t it?” he demands. “I thought it went off by accident, but you...you shot yourself with it, didn’t you? On purpose.” 
Double-O-Duck winces. “Yes, I suppose I did. You have to understand, I was operating on déjà vu and instinct getting us into this base. My memories were blocked until the ray restored them. I didn’t mean to find it, but when I did, I knew I had to use it on myself.” 
Darkwing paces, unable to keep still while agitated. It’s a short circuit, five feet in one direction, turn, five feet in the opposite. “Did Launchpad have a choice?” he rattles off, the consummate detective, but it rankles at Double-O-Duck now because there’s no need to question something so clearly good. “Or were you...I don’t know, possessing him somehow?” 
“As I have already told you, I’m Launchpad,” Double-O-Duck says, more forcefully than he intends to.
Darkwing meets his ire with his own, marching up to him until their bodies are scant inches apart. “Launchpad would know better than to shoot himself with some random piece of F.O.W.L. tech,” he snaps.
Double-O-Duck feels feverish, confusion and exasperation warring noxiously inside of him. He and Darkwing have never fought like this before, never spoken to each other like this before. They’ve trusted each other since that fateful day in his trailer, since they watched Jim disappear in smoke and flame, since he handed Darkwing his hat among the wreckage. He doesn’t understand why Darkwing suddenly feels out of his reach. 
“It wasn’t random!” Double-O-Duck exclaims, finally at his wits end. “Finding the ray was happenstance, I’ll admit, but part of me remembered what it would do to me. I knew it would make me better.” 
Darkwing goes still. 
The ensuing silence is crushing. The gray walls of their prison press in against him and his headache pounds, the blood rushing in his ears reminiscent of thunder. Darkwing operates on instinct, fast-moving and fast-talking. A silent Darkwing is an unpredictable one. 
What do you mean ‘better’?” he asks, tone colorless. 
Finally, a chance to explain. A chance to make Darkwing see reason. “Look at me,” Double-O-Duck insists, splaying his arms at his sides. “Really look, Drake. I’m smarter this way, faster and more useful than I used to be.”
“Useful?” Darkwing repeats, like he’s tasted something foul. 
Double-O-Duck huffs gently, because of course that’s what Darkwing chooses to focus on. “You know what I mean.
“No, I don’t,” Darkwing retorts, “I love Launchpad the way he is. I’d never ask him—”
“Of course you wouldn’t, because you didn’t know that you could!” Double-O-Duck interrupts him, so eager to get to his point that he lets the continued slight against his identity slide this time. “I was forced to give this up last time to save Dewey and Duckburg. But there’s no reason for that now.” He steps forward, projecting his movements to avoid startling Darkwing, and takes his hands delicately in his own. “I can finally be good enough for you,” he breathes, quiet, in the space between them. 
He feels Darkwing’s hands shake, and he’d be more concerned if he wasn’t so overwhelmingly relieved that Darkwing hasn’t pulled away from him altogether. 
When he speaks again, Darkwing’s voice is rasping. “I...I made you feel like you weren’t good enough for me?”  
Double-O-Duck chuckles, pressing Darkwing’s hands just a little tighter. “I know I disappoint you sometimes,” he says gently, tilting his head to try and meet Darkwing’s eyes. “I’ve tried my best to be the partner you deserve, though history has shown that my best is less than good enough.”
“Who told you that?” Darkwing demands, with an alacrity that startles Double-O-Duck. Darkwing squeezes his hands nearly to the point of pain. “Who told you that you weren’t good enough?” 
“Well, uh,” Double-O-Duck stumbles as Darkwing’s dark eyes pin him in place. “Nobody had to,” he asserts. “Or I should say nobody has had the heart. I’m not someone to be taken seriously or trusted with matters of import.” 
“Bullfeathers!” Darkwing snaps, dropping Double-O-Duck’s hands as though they’ve scalded him. His not-quite swear offers little levity from the rekindled fury radiating off of him. “I’ve trusted Launchpad with my identity from day one. I trust him to keep me honest. I trust him with Gosalyn’s life. Launchpad doesn’t need to be better. He’s not perfect, but nobody is! I’m certainly not. I would never expect or-or want that from him, so I don’t know where you get off assuming otherwise!”
Enhancement or no, Double-O-Duck doesn’t anger easily. Whether too carefree or too cautious, his temper is slow to build and slower still to act upon. But Darkwing insists on speaking to him like a stranger. He refuses to acknowledge the good that Double-O-Duck has done, the improvements he’s made. 
Doesn’t Darkwing understand that he’s doing all of this for him? 
He takes a breath, his chest swelling with his anger and irritation and the words to convey it. He looks at Darkwing, staring back at him with flinty eyes and squared shoulders, always ready for a fight. 
But Double-O-Duck realizes he doesn’t want to be Darkwing’s enemy. He doesn’t want to prolong this confusing argument, not when he’d been so certain that Darkwing would be relieved. This should have been a load of his back; never again would he need to worry about Launchpad bumbling his way through another mission.  
But it seems that he’s gone and made a mess of things anyway. 
Double-O-Duck’s exhale is ragged. “How many times do I have to tell you that I am Launchpad,” he says, shoulders sinking heavily. “I’m right here, Drake.”
He recognizes Darkwing’s hesitation in the way his gaze wavers, how his throat bobs with a harsh swallow. But when he speaks, his expression is locked down in a way Double-O-Duck is unable to decipher.
“You haven’t called me ‘DW’ once.” 
It’s a statement uttered almost without inflection, but the tilt of Darkwing’s chin speaks to a sense of finality that the bare accusation does not. For the first time, doubt sneaks into the back of Double-O-Duck’s mind, sharp and unexpected. 
He’s still the same man. That’s what he’s told himself, what he thought he knew. Double-O-Duck is Launchpad with all the rough edges sanded down to produce the perfect partner, the perfect pilot, the perfect spy. But maybe he lost part of himself in the process. 
Maybe he lost the part that made him Launchpad. The one that let him look at Drake and read his thoughts in the furrow of his brow, the lightness of his smile. The one that knew the right thing to say to reassure him, not push him away. 
Darkwing leaves Double-O-Duck where he stands, arms hanging loose and useless at his sides. He sits down on their cell’s single bunk, facing the solid Protecto-glass wall to catch the first glimpse of F.O.W.L. when they send someone to interrogate their prisoners. Double-O-Duck’s newfound analytical mind deduces this in seconds, and it leaves him feeling vaguely ill. 
He takes a halting step toward Darkwing as the distance between their bodies seems to yawn and crumble inward into an impassable abyss. 
“Darkwing,” he says, desperate to salvage, to soothe, but he doesn’t let another word trip off his tongue when Drake shakes his head. 
He doesn’t look in Double-O-Duck’s direction. “Let’s not talk for a while.” 
And so they don’t. 
Freedom comes in the form of half a dozen Eggheads, as High Command clearly doesn’t consider Darkwing or Double-O-Duck enough of a threat to merit the escort of an actual agent. 
Darkwing obviously takes offense to this, scoffing loudly as an Egghead slowly raises their cell’s Protect-o-glass barrier. The remainder stand along the wall priming their blasters. But Darkwing doesn’t wait until the door is open all the way; he slides through the gap, and is on his feet quick enough to deck two Eggheads before their fingers can do more than twitch their trigger fingers. 
Double-O-Duck has to wait a handful of excruciating seconds before he can help, his frame too broad to fit beneath the glass until the door has gone up a few more inches. He follows Darkwing’s lead the instant he’s able, and as he stands back up just in time to clothesline the Egghead who’d been making a run for Darkwing’s unprotected back. 
They make quick work of the remaining three Eggheads, knocking blasters out of hands and kicking bodies into walls, until he and Darkwing are the only two still standing. 
“Let’s get out of here before they send reinforcements,” Drake says on an exhale, rubbing the back of his neck. He turns toward the exit and immediately trips over the body of an unconscious Egghead, falling forward with a yelp. 
Double-O-Duck moves out of instinct, out of habit, and offers Darkwing a hand up. 
At the beginning, when their friendship was laced with a delicate, electric tension neither could put a name to, their hands had always seemed to linger. Helping the other off the mat after a spar, catching one another when a criminal’s fist couldn’t be avoided, or pulling each other back to their feet when either of their natural clumsiness got the better of them. Their hands clasped together, they would allow the touch to linger, Launchpad’s palm broad where Drake’s was slim but their calluses fit together like puzzle pieces. 
In this cold detention center/lined on either side by cold, empty prison cells, Darkwing looks at Double-O-Duck’s proffered hand before he ignores it and pushes himself to his feet. 
That refusal is the final straw. Double-O-Duck reels as if from a blow, a deep, visceral pain like someone has reached into the cavity of his chest and twisted. 
He drops his arm in the dead air between them. “Darkwing…?” he says, just shy of a plea. But there are no more words forthcoming as devastation settles over him like water over the head of a drowning man. 
Darkwing steadfastly makes his way toward the sealed doors at the exit of the detention center. “Let’s move. Who knows how long we have before they send reinforcements.” 
Double-O-Duck lengthens his stride, confusion and hurt spurring him forward. He overtakes Darkwing just before they reach the doors and places himself directly in his path. Before he can open his mouth, before he can figure out how to put into words the thousand questions in his mind, Darkwing is already speaking a mile a minute.  
“Look, I’m sorry. I...you look like Launchpad, but when I look in your eyes I just...I don’t know you. It’s all, all wrong.” He gesticulates as he always does when he’s nervous, but the movements are smaller and more self-contained. He doesn’t let his gaze dart around, he looks straight at Double-O-Duck, like he would an unknown, like he would a threat. “You just need to give me, give me time, okay?. To get used to this...new you.” 
Double-O-Duck’s mind goes utterly blank as a feeling of helplessness, of inevitability comes crashing down on his head. He’s staring down the barrel of the railgun all over again, feels the blistering heat of the weapon charging up. He has been thrust off a precipice, his heart and stomach and lungs racing up to the back of his throat as he careens into freefall. 
Wrong, Drake’s voice repeats in his head like the solid tone of a timpani drum, matching the pounding of his heart, and his head where the concussion has not abated. All wrong. 
Darkwing moves around him to smack at the door controls until the entryway parts smoothly, and unleashes chaos into the silent cell block. 
But it isn’t an army of Eggheads that awaits them in the hall, as Darkwing had feared. There’s no one, in fact, the hallway on the other side of the door utterly void of bodies, but that emptiness is filled by the volume of a blaring klaxon. The walls are bathed in the red glow of flashing emergency lights, and the deafening alarm quiets long enough for an automated voice to intone, “Self-destruct in T-minus five minutes.” 
 A genuine swear slips past Darkwing’s beak. “They were just trying to hold us off while they scrubbed their base!” he snaps, shouting to be heard over the alarms. “We’re going to lose everything, every sign that they were ever here!”
Wrong, Double-O-Duck’s mind repeats, louder than the klaxons. All wrong. 
Darkwing turns on his heel, walking back into the cell block. Double-O-Duck comes back to himself just in time to catch him by the shoulder. He drops his hand the instant Darkwing looks back. 
“What are you doing?” he yells too. “We need to locate an escape route!”
“I’m not leaving these Eggheads behind to be vaporized,” Darkwing says, the flattening of his brow indicating he’ll brook no argument on the subject. Back in the prison block, the blaring of the alarms filters through in echoes, sounding deceptively distant. He lugs the first unconscious Egghead over his shoulder and looks at Double-O-Duck expectantly. “Well? What’re you waiting for?”
Wrong. All wrong. 
Double-O-Duck’s mouth moves before his mind has caught up with it. “I still remember where their command center is located. Get these Eggheads to safety, while I see if I can salvage anything about what F.O.W.L. is planning.”
Darkwing looks back up at him sharply. “What? You’re not doing that.”
“You said it yourself, we have no idea what F.O.W.L. has in store,” Double-O-Duck argues, already walking backward toward the exit. Resolution floods him, tinged with an astringent edge of desperation. “This may very well be our only chance.”
“Launchpad, no,” Darkwing retorts, more fervently now. “Whatever you might find, it’s not worth risking your life.”
A clock counts down in his mind’s eye, damning Double-O-Duck with each vanishing second. “There’s no time,” he says, striving for professional as the grains of sand from a broken hourglass leaks through his fingers. “Follow this hall, and make the first left. Make another left, and you should find yourself at a dock. They keep speedboats there.” 
Double-O-Duck cannot afford to linger, so as he backs away he takes in Darkwing in full, the fire in his eyes barely contained by the fabric of his mask, the strong set of his shoulders, poised to carry the world at a moment’s notice, without doubt, without question. His hair, increasingly messy without his hat, reminds Double-O-Duck of the first time they met, the biggest surprise of his life standing in the doorway with a Starducks to-go cup in hand, boyish and bright. 
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Drake,” he says, utterly candid, the need for secrecy a moot point. “I’ve mucked everything up, but I’m going to set it right.”
He turns his back on Darkwing to the sound of his name, called in increasingly desperate tones. But Double-O-Duck doesn’t allow himself to stop or hesitate in his mad dash, plotting out his course first to the command center, second to one innocuous storage closet out of dozens. The pounding of his heart falls in sync with the blaring of the alarms overheard, a deafening repetition of Wrong, wrong, wrong. 
But a louder voice, Launchpad’s voice, fires back from the depths of his mind, Fix it. Fix it. Fix it. 
The moon is a pale and sickly crescent above the boardwalk, taking as much illumination as it gives. The same can be said of the stars, faint and few despite the blackness of night, due to the proximity of downtown Duckburg’s interminable light pollution. Instead, the garish facade of Funzo’s Funzone is lit by harsh LED security lights, which splashes stark white against the pier’s wooden boards in a dozen foot radius, allowing nothing to hide in shadow. 
Despite his namesake, and catchphrase, Darkwing is not hiding. 
He stands in one of the merciless pools of light and stares at the entrance, less than two meters away, pacing. Waiting. 
He’s lost track of how long it’s been since he piled the Eggheads in a speedboat, since a few of them awoke and luckily one of them knew how to drive a speedboat. When they finally left the little boathouse, the alarms blaring at their backs had quieted long enough for an automated voice to announce three minutes remaining until self-destruct. 
The Eggheads were more than happy to return to the boardwalk to dump him off before they sped back off into the night, and Drake can hardly blame them. If the shadowy organization he worked for had left him for dead, he’d cut his losses too. 
But now he’s left to wait, with no idea of how much time remains. He won’t know until he sees Launchpad, until the building blows up, until—
Drake scrubs a hand through his hair, leaving it even messier than before.
 It’s utterly quiet on the marina, which means that every small sound he hears is amplified to match his galloping heart, thrumming with the velocity of hummingbird wings at the base of his throat, making it difficult to swallow. The chime of bell buoys, the rush and hiss of waves breaking against the pilings below, the creak of the wooden boards beneath his pacing feet. All unobtrusive under normal circumstances, and all of them deafening when Drake can still hear blaring alarms, despite the distance of half a mile and several tons of concrete. 
He takes a step forward. He takes a step back. 
He’s shaking with the knowledge that it can’t possibly have been more than two hours since they dropped Gosalyn off at the mansion, ready for a normal night of patrol. This is as far from normal as things get, even for them. 
Drake is prepared to charge back inside, find out what on Earth could possibly be taking Launchpad so long, and drag him back topside. He wants to do it, desperately. The countdown is a jumbled mess in his head and if he doesn’t act he might lose Launchpad any….second….now. 
The yawning silence mocks him, every round of his rapid pacing a useless exercise. He wants to throw himself back into that base, undeterred by the present danger, doesn’t care if it means sprinting pointlessly down identical gray hallways. Anything other than standing here and doing nothing. He’d die for Launchpad, of that Drake has no doubts. But he needs to live for Gosalyn, and that is the only thing that keeps him where he is. Keeps him safe, even though Launchpad might not be for long. 
Launchpad, or at least this strange facsimile of him, this funhouse mirror reflection, who is just as self-sacrificing as the original. Who is always prepared to take the blame upon himself, who searches for Drake first, and takes stock of the situation second. 
But for as much as this Launchpad behaves like his partner, they are not one and the same. Not to Drake. This Launchpad feels like a figment, a trick, a ploy, that twists everything familiar into something distinctly other. 
His combat skills are impeccable, but only when he fights one on one. Drake and Launchpad have moved in sync since the first day they met, since the first time they fought. That teamwork is the only way they could’ve stopped Jim, or the Fearsome Four, or Bulba, or the countless thugs they’ve faced since. But this Launchpad, this polished copy, seems to have forgotten all of that. 
His movements are alien, his voice self aggrandizing when he isn’t laying into Launchpad’s supposed faults. Perhaps that’s what he is, that’s what the F.O.W.L. weapon brought out in him—Launchpad’s insecurities made manifest, given a mouth and eyes and misplaced confidence. 
Drake wants to trust him. More than anything, he wants to trust his partner no matter what. But he doesn’t move like Launchpad, doesn’t speak like him, and when Drake looks in his eyes it’s like staring at his reflection in a two-way mirror. They’re the eyes of the man he loves, but he’s become a stranger to Drake. 
But. But, Drake is resolved to know this man who wears Launchpad’s face, owns Launchpad’s memories. They’re not starting from zero, only thereabouts, but already Drake is struck by a sense of loss, the feeling of a hook tugging his stomach sharply to the soles of his feet. 
He wishes he hadn’t been so cold toward Launchpad, stranger or not. He wishes he’d said a proper goodbye. 
The bay spreads out, tarlike, around the boardwalk and beyond. Halfblinded as he is by the LEDs, he can’t make out the horizon line, the exact point where the endless ocean and sky meet. The world beyond his circle of light is a void, dangers hidden by the dark. Even the brilliance of St. Canard’s clustered skyscrapers are obscured here. 
There’s a creak of metal, like that of a heavy door as it is pushed open. But Drake is standing in front of the entrance, which remains motionless, and he steps back, gaze roving in confusion. 
Around the side of the building appears Launchpad, as if plucked from a dream. A side entrance, Drake realizes stupidly. Of course there’s a side entrance. 
He’s moving quickly, or trying to, clutching a hand to the side of his head as if to put pressure on a wound. But in the glare of the LEDs all is revealed, and Drake sees no sign of injury. 
“LP!” Drake cries, relief tearing at his throat, nevermind how ill-fitting the nickname might be now. 
Launchpad’s head jerks up, and while his expression is dazed it doesn’t refute the franticness that overtakes him. “DW? What’re you doing—you, you gotta move!” 
There is a steady whine building beneath Drake’s feet, a rumbling that begins to shake the pier. 
It seems their five minutes are up. 
Drake’s scarcely looked back up before he’s hearing the pound of running feet and a body, Launchpad’s body, is colliding into him with enough force to knock both of them off of the pier and into the freezing waters below. 
The bay’s so cold it briefly drives the breath from Drake’s lungs, and beneath the rolling surface of the water he hears a cataclysmic BOOM. He breaks through the surface, gasping, to a world bathed in fire. 
Like a Titan’s fist had plowed straight out of the ground beneath it, Funzo’s is destroyed from the inside out. The building, along with half of the pier, are in burning, splintered ruins and appear on the brink of total collapse. Thick black smoke rises into the air and once it’s out of the reach of flames disappears into the deep navy of the night sky. 
“DW!” Launchpad’s voice heaves from out of the darkness around him, and Drake searches wildly for its source. 
 “Launchpad! I’m here!” Teeth chattering, Drake paddles forward, keeping his head above water. A cold hand touches his own and Launchpad is there, equally drenched and bangs flattened to his forehead. They clutch at each other, gasping, and Drake feels almost dizzy with relief. 
“You’re okay,” Launchpad keeps saying, as they furiously tread water. “You’re okay.” 
An engine rumbles nearby, growing louder. He and Launchpad find themselves blinded by a pair of flashlights. 
“Hey, you made it!” one of the Eggheads aboard the speedboat crows. “And you found the big guy!” 
“Y-yeah, we made it,” Drake replies. “Uh, mind if we catch a ride?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.”
All the Eggheads, save the helmsman, rush to the side of the boat to drag Drake and Launchpad aboard. Gratitude sweeps through him as he slumps to the deck in a soaking puddle, more water than man. The Eggheads have removed their helmets, revealing green eyes and scars and brown feathers, each of them brilliantly unique once no longer faceless. He allows himself a prickle of guilt at the bruises and black eyes he and Launchpad bestowed, but at this point he figures they’re square. 
Drake reaches for Launchpad, who’s hunched over beside him, coughing up sea water. Putting aside the strangeness between them, he places a hand on Launchpad’s back, rubbing up and down between his shaking shoulders. 
“I, I’m glad you’re alright,” Drake tells him, halting but honest. He’s already had to lose the Launchpad he knew, and at that moment he isn’t sure if he could have survived losing him permanently. 
Launchpad starts shaking his head, bangs flopping wetly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, DW,” he murmurs brokenly, almost too quiet for Drake to hear less than a foot away. 
Drake scoots closer, winding his arm across Launchpad’s back. His trembling has only worsened. “Hey,” he soothes, heart pinching. “Hey, it’s fine. Whatever it is, it’s…” 
A cold feeling settles over Drake that has nothing to do with the breeze coming off the bay making him shiver in his soaked uniform. It’s a sort of numbness, like he’s been thrust back under the surface of the water where light and sound become difficult to decipher. 
“What did you call me?” he whispers. Hope is a dangerous, burning thing in the center of his chest, warring with the ice cold chill of doubt. 
Launchpad lifts his head and there are tears in his eyes, mingling with the saltwater still dripping down his face. “D-DW,” he stutters, shoulders hitching, Drake realizes, but not from cold. “I-I’m sorry—”
Drake cups his cheek with one shaking palm, and Launchpad falls silent at once. “Are you my Launchpad?” Though his voice shakes, he remains utterly serious. He watches the interplay of light and shadow across Launchpad’s face, the flickering flames of Funzo’s and the dark of night. He feels the burn of tears in his own eyes as Launchpad’s expression crumples. 
“For better or worse,” he says, at the same time Drake looks him in the eye and recognizes him. 
“Definitely better,” Drake replies, breathless with wonder and incredulity, as some last reserve cracks open in his chest. He leans in, hands still on Launchpad’s face, and draws him into a kiss that lands like a whisper and an electric shock all at once. Launchpad makes a surprised sound against his mouth, but doesn’t pull away. His hands come up to Drake’s face, cradling his jaw with a featherlight touch. 
“How?” Drake asks when their kiss breaks, keeping Launchpad’s hands in place with a light grip on his wrists. “How are you, you again?” 
Shame settles on Launchpad’s face, in the downward curve of his beak. “I made a pit stop on the way to the command center. To find the intelliray and...fix my mistake.” He glances down at his coat, and the muscles of his arms twitch as if to pat it down, though Drake is still holding his wide, warm hands hostage. “I did find a, a flashdrive, but after our swim I don’t know how much good it’ll do.”
“Forget about the flashdrive, I’m just glad to have you back.” Drake surges forward again to capture Launchpad in a long, grateful kiss. 
“I almost lost this,” Launchpad murmurs as they part. “Our life, you, Gos. Because I was selfish…”
“Not selfish,” Drake argues at once, gently squeezing Launchpad’s wrists. He feels almost giddy, breathless with relief, but he sobers at the reminder of what he almost lost. “I know you did what you did to...to help me, but LP, sweetheart, you don’t need to be perfect. I’d never want or, or expect that from you because no one’s perfect. I know I’m not.”
Launchpad rubs his eye with the heel of his palm, exhaling harshly in what almost passes as a laugh. “I just...I wanna be good enough for you, DW.”
Drake lets go of Launchpad’s wrist in favor of wrapping him in his arms as best as he can, creasing the poor soaked leather of Launchpad’s jacket under his hands. Confusion and not a little bit of fear churns within him, as it did in their cell, hearing Launchpad’s insecurities laid bare. 
“You are,” he says fiercely. “LP, of course you are. You’re more than good enough. You, the Launchpad I met in line to get Jim Starling’s autograph, are the only one I want as my partner, you hear me? Without you, I wouldn’t be Darkwing and Gos would be alone or, or worse. You’re my hero, LP.” 
Launchpad’s hands are fisted in Drake’s cape over the middle of his back, bracketing and holding him in place with equal strength. “Okay,” he relents, dropping his head into the space where Drake’s neck and shoulder meet. “Okay.” 
This conversation is far from over, Drake knows now. But it’s not meant to be had on the deck of a stolen speedboat, freezing and reeling from their latest near-death adventure. It’s meant for late nights on the couch, sitting up in bed. Perhaps even visits to someone who can help in the respects that Drake alone cannot.
But the night is calm once more, the approaching sirens a comforting chorus rather than a cacophony. Holding each other close, they’ve said all that can be said at the moment. 
The Egghead helmsman coughs. “So, uh, where can we drop you, Mr. Darkwing?” 
179 notes · View notes
mardereads19 · 4 years ago
Text
Elriel Month 🌸🦇
Day 11:
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Continuation of Day 3: Spies at Work.
Elain had managed to convince the carriage males that Rhys’s stunt with the wagon had been real. They’d all drunk up her story as if it was good wine and looked at her like she was the price for the night. She hadn’t even been in the carriage ten minutes when the boasting had begun, a competition on who could impress her more. No doubt they thought that the winner would get her to bed. Elain had smiled demurely, but had let her eyes roam their faces and bodies whenever one spoke, as if she herself couldn’t wait to pick one of them.
The juicy information, though, had begun spilling out after more than an hour of carriage ride.
“We come here with confidential business to take care of,” said one of the males. In the dark, it was difficult to make out all their features correctly, but this one for sure had a mustache.
“They’ll try to impress you,” Rhys had said to her just before he had left her on the road for her mission. “That’s exactly what we want. As much as you can, get them talking and they’ll do the rest.”
So far, he’d been right.
“Confidential?” Elain tucked a strand of hair behind an ear and allowed a little of her glamour to fade. The male’s eyes drank her in. All of them greedily looked at her. Elain couldn’t deny it felt uncomfortable, but Azriel was outside. She knew none of them would remain alive if one of them so much as touched her against her will. “That means you’re all important right?”
The male who had conceded to take her with them smirked. “That’s right. We only work for the most powerful male out there.”
Koschei confirmed.
The carriage stopped and the males eagerly exited, all hoping to be the one to help her down. In the end, it was the same male who had helped her up who extended a hand to her now. He was clearly the leader of all of them. The rest looked at him with disdain and envy, all wanting to be him, to have his authority.
Elain took his hand with a smile and limped her way down the carriage. When she looked up, she noticed they were on the bar she had known was down the road, close to the market she had supposedly been on her way to.
“Look at the map,” Azriel had ordered in Rhys’s study earlier today. “These Fae males will expect you to recognize the buildings and locations. You need to at least have an idea of what is there.” He’d pointed to one of the squares on the map. “This is a bar called The Wicked Glen, it’s most likely they’ll take you there. They’ll want you to drink and lose your ground. It’ll be easier to sway you to dance with them or leave with one of them.”
Elain had seen him clench his jaw and she’d known he did not like what she was being put to the task to do. They had been alone, so she’d reached out her hand to brush her thumb along his cheekbone. “Where will you be?”
Azriel had leaned in to her touch and his eyes had met hers. “I’ll be with you —behind you, around you. You won’t be alone.”
“You’ll keep me safe?”
Azriel, the one to usually keep his distance whenever their friends and family were around, had been the one who tilted her face up and leaned down to kiss her. It hadn’t been any kiss either, but a gentle kiss, a soft kiss to let her know how much he cared. He’d leaned his forehead against hers when they’d broken away.
“There will not be a second where I will not be looking out for you. There won’t be a moment where I am not focused on you. No one will hurt you, Elain.” In his hazel eyes, Elain had seen his promise. “No one will hurt you.”
Elain nodded her head against him. She believed him. “I’ll get the information Rhys needs.”
“I know you will. I have no doubt in you.” There’d been worry in his eyes, but his words had rang true. He’d not been worried that she might fail, he’d been worried of what could be done to her. Worried for her.
But his certainty in her? It had been enough to push away her own doubts.
Now, she followed the male from the carriage into The Wicked Glen. She caught a shadow swirling to their left from the corner of her eye. She ignored it, but it gave her comfort. Azriel was here somewhere.
Her heart told her he was on a branch to her right and she knew that if she glanced there now, she’d see him. She had become highly aware of his presence, knowing exactly were he was even when she hadn’t seen him appear.
When she and the male had taken a seat at the bar, she glanced around for the others. The rest had already wondered off to find dancing partners or to some tables where games of cards were being played. One of them was waiting for the restroom and another one of them was at the bar, too, though farther down. They had given up on her, relenting their chances to their leader, though it didn’t seem like they did it willingly.
Elain counted all the exists and windows —three and two respectively— and noticed what was nearer that she could use as a weapon if anything went south.
A shot of tequila was placed before her on the counter. The male from the carriage turned to her. “Drink up, sweet face.”
***
Azriel was on the roof, looking down through the skylight just above the bar. Elain had dragged her shots as much as she could, just now finishing her third. It had been forty-four minutes since they had gotten here and the male had barely shut up once.
A fourth shot was placed on the counter and Elain took it, but did not raise it to her lips yet. Instead, she smiled prettily at the male and played with a strand of her hair. It did not matter, the male looked annoyed. He had barely drank anything since they got here, no doubt waiting for her to get drunk so he could take advantage of her.
Stand down, the shadow nearest to him whispered in Azriel’s ear. He glared its way, but it was right. Azriel had fisted his hands and was close to winnowing inside the bar regardless Rhysand’s instructions to stay—
Look, another shadow told him.
Azriel looked bellow to see the male running a finger over Elain’s arm. Her eyes had begun to look glassy, the alcohol getting to her at last, and her movement to slap his hand away had been sluggish. The male allowed his fingers to tangle inside her hair and pulled her closer. She smiled, but Azriel noticed her fingers twisting in her dress. He knew her tells enough to know that meant she was afraid.
It was enough.
Azriel winnowed to the entrance of The Wicked Glen and silently made his way to the bar. Everyone who took notice of him stopped what they were doing to gawk and frown. His ears might have been round, like a human’s, but he had wings. And armor. He was still a Fae in the human side of the Continent. He knew some people here were Fae in hiding, but the rest assumed they were all human.
“How would you like to dance?” The male was asking Elain as Azriel approached, his hand tilting Elain’s face. His intent to kiss her neck.
Elain’s eyelids were dropping, but she managed to stop him with her hands over his chest. “I’m not interested in dancing.”
The male’s brow furrowed. “How about having another drink?”
“How about stepping away before I gladly make you cinders?”
The male looked up at Azriel with anger first and then with confusion. Something in his eyes came alive, like he was waking up from a dream. “Who the hell are you, Illyrian?”
“I’m sure you know the answer to that question.” Shadows slithered around their feet, others rising to fix Elain’s hair.
She looked up at Azriel with so much relief that he considered spilling the male’s guts right here on the floor for ever making her afraid in the first place.
The male raised his eyebrows as he regarded Azriel and Elain, how the shadows were fixing her dress as she stood —somehow the skirt had been pushed up— while the rest of the shadows prepared to attack.
“I know who you are, Shadowsinger.” The male smirked. “My boss knows who you are. And now, he knows what makes you weak, too.”
Elain frowned. “What are you talking about?”
The male looked at her. Azriel fisted his hands, but he told himself that it would not be correct to make a bigger scene than the one he had already created.
“History tends to repeat itself, sweet face.” He chuckled before spitting at Azriel’s feet. “Soon you’ll understand.”
Elain intertwined her fingers through Azriel’s and they were winnowing away before anyone could say anything else.
Once they were farther away, but not yet in the glade Rhys had chosen as their place to stay a few nights while they figured out what business had brought Koschei’s males to the Continent, Elain leaned into Azriel. He took her face in his hands and studied her. “How are you?”
Elain laughed. “Drunk.”
Azriel did not share her laugh. He held her at arms length and looked her over.
“I’m not hurt, Azriel. He wasn’t rough with me.”
“He shouldn’t have placed a finger on you in the first place.”
“I could’ve handled him.”
“You were drunk and scared.”
“I was playing a part. Weren’t you the one who taught me how to use give aways to my advantage?”
Azriel opened his mouth to speak but shut it. Then opened it again, “You were relieved when you saw me.”
Elain smiled, “I’m always relieved when you come around.”
They stayed silent for a few seconds. Had Azriel sabotaged their mission, one that had been under control?
“Possibly,” Elain answered, though she was smiling at him. “You know Rhys is going to kill you, right? An Illyrian from the Night court was on Human Territory and he messed with Koschei’s men.”
Azriel ran his hands through his hair.
You’re screwed, a shadow said in his ear.
Azriel glared at it for the second time tonight. You were the ones who told me to look, he answered.
Elain laughed, “You were worried about me. All of you were.”
A shadow floated over a flower and another placed it over her her ear. She laughed again. Azriel felt his heartbeat skip a beat and couldn’t help but wrap his arm around her waist, his other hand cupping her cheek. Suddenly, the shadows found places to stand guard at a good distance, giving them their privacy.
Elain traced Azriel’s left eyebrow with her index finger. “You are hazy to me right now, you know? But your eyes... They’re like a lighthouse calling me home.”
Azriel took a deep inhale, smelling her scent, reassuring himself that the worst was over, that she was back in his arms. “Did I ruin the mission?”
Elain shook her head, “No, you didn’t.” She smiled and, even with her glassy drunk eyes, Azriel felt his knees go weak under him. “I could have gotten more out of him, but I’m sure Rhys will be satisfied with what we got.” She wrapped her arms behind his neck. “Would you like me to tell you?”
“Not now,” he said. “Now I just want to look at you.” Elain’s face softened to tenderness. Her eyes roamed his face. He did the same, noticing the moment Elain let go of the glamour and her whole Fae splendor shined through. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. Inside and out. And he had been so blind tonight with his worry and fear that he had not been able to tell she was putting all his lessons to use. He had believed her fake give aways, her mask of defenseless girl. He should have known better.
“Azriel,” she said, his name like a prayer from her lips. He lowered his head closer to her. She met his eyes, and what he saw in them quieted everything in his mind. “Tell me you love me.”
They had not said it yet. But it was there. It was in every secret glance and touch. In every time they made love and kissed and trained. It was in the way they gravitated towards each other and how they helped each other reach the light. But they had not said it yet.
And right now, with her looking at him like that, with that damn flower tucked over her ear and his own relief at having her in his arms...
Azriel opened his mouth to say that truth that had been in his heart for a long time when she doubled over and heaved all she had drank at the bar.
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atlasllm · 2 years ago
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Top 5 characters ??
ohh having to pick between all my blorbos ajbsklgss...
1.) Elliot Baek from Zero Game on Webtoon....
He's like a murderous bastard but he constantly does it with an ^_^ face and he also has the vampric red/black aesthetic and like I think he's SUPER interesting as to how he ties Alex into the game and how he sort of haunts the narrative during his dead arc, I'm really interested as to how his character is handled from now on
2.) Macaque from Lego Monkie Kid
I feel like people will scoff at me calling him a Vegeta ripoff but he is SUCH a refreshing Vegeta-esque character, he has such wonderful villain moments, his shadow powers are cool (oddly enough Elliot also has shadow powers akjslkgns), but he also has the more western take on a "redemption arc"
Billy Kametz did such a fantastic job with portraying his character and I hope he knew how well he did with his performance, he singlehandedly got me into LMK over how well his performance was and I know VAtwt will remember him as the great guy he really was
3.) Ursula Callistis/Chariot Du Nord from Little Witch Academia
Look I just love blorbos who are just sorta Sad:tm: but Chariot du Nord does this while also hitting my fave tropes such as
Broken found family
Dual identity crisis
I feel like Chariot would be one of those characters that I would've woobified/pathetic little meow meow'd if she was a guy but she's also a milf which makes her character really hit different for me; a lot of my "bad but sad boy" blorbos are men but Chariot can Get It yknow and it's nice to have a female character with an awesome arc and also I will gladly simp over ajkgnsgklsdg
4.) Cinder Fall from RWBY
I love those Prideful Jerk characters who would do anything to lust for power and I honestly REALLY love how Cinder's character has been so far; her aesthetic has become something I really enjoy and I hate to love her but the team behind RWBY make her lovable enough to not be obnoxiously hatable
I really like how she's gone from "just another sexy villain lady" to "prideful jerk character who throws tantrums when things don't go her way but also A Woman"
5.)
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i'm not elaborating on this guy you just had to have been there ajbntgslkgnsgsd
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itsclydebitches · 3 years ago
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Not sure how I feel about anon bringing Yang not showing Salem empathy in that moment as a bad thing. Like if an immortal witch was trying to murder/kill all of my friends my reaction probably wouldn't be "how do you feel though"
That's been my response too, anon, though I understand where the previous anon is coming from. Though Salem started out as a generic Big Bad with no redeemable qualities, Volume 6 showed us a captive woman who was later tortured by the gods and sought death, only to find herself changed instead, thereby raising the question for the audience, "How much of the Big Bad's action is Salem and how much of it is the evil grimm magic acting upon her?" Just as important, Volume 8 gave us Cinder's backstory and a scene of her crying on the rooftop, alongside the forgiveness of Emerald and Hazel. I could go on another rant about how this sympathy didn't extent to Ironwood and, in a different way, didn't extend to Ozpin either, but outside of that there's been a very strong message of, "Abuse victims and people who have just generally suffered - lost a sister, lived on the streets - should be shown compassion and given a second chance," which becomes a problem when we consider that the most prominent villain with an abusive backstory since Volume 6 has not been extended that compassion. Gender dynamics aside, it's the same problem fans have with Adam's ending considering that his brand was revealed right before he died. The go-to explanations of, "But Adam was his own abuser who stalked Blake" and "Salem is literally trying to destroy the world" fall a little flat when pit against "But it's okay for Emerald to manipulate Pyrrha into killing Penny?" and "Hazel has also knowingly helped Salem try to take over the world. And also murdered countless huntsmen. And also was torturing a kid." It's not so easy to go, "The story shouldn't show them compassion because they're The Worst" when the story is already showing compassion to people who... are also The Worst. I say all this not as a way to excuse any one character's actions - I'm not in the business of going, "[insert horrific choice here] is fine actually!" - but rather to acknowledge that RWBY lacks a clear divide between what actions are forgivable and what actions are not. Fans aren't wrong to go, "If you expect me to feel for Cinder after everything she's done since Episode 1 and you expect me to laugh along with the cast after everything Emerald has done, why isn't Salem Adam Ironwood Ozpin getting that same sort of work?" Given the "trust love" message and the strong push to sympathize with/outright redeem heinous characters, a lot of fans are wondering why our cast hasn't even mentioned all the shit Salem went through. It's been months now since they watched Jinn's vision and they're accepting former villains into their ranks now because Life is Hard and they deserve that chance, but no one cares to even mention everything Salem went through and debate her own responsibility. Surely if they can forgive Emerald for willingly working with her, there's at least some room to discuss the question of Salem's morality in the context of two Gods' manipulations and a magical pool having some kind of impact on her. There's a disconnect here. The story can't go, "These heinous people are Good deep down, actually" without extending that to all our villains, Salem included.
(All of which, btw, is tied up in the frustration that the group hasn't discussed the vision at all. The question of Salem's morality is tied up in the question of her defeat. For example, if they decide they're not comfortable with killing her, that might lead to theories on how to contain her instead...)
So ALL OF THAT is churning in the back of fans' minds. I agree 100% that the group's capture was not the time to extend any sympathy for Salem and I've got posts out there saying the exact same as you, anon: "You really expect Yang to be compassionate after Salem was torturing Oscar, captured them, was planning to kill them, is attacking the city, and just reminded her of her dead mom? C'mon." The problem lies in the fact that we haven't gotten this kind of work anywhere else, the cast has barely mentioned Salem anywhere else - outside of freaking out over her arrival - so when a member of our main group is suddenly right next to her and they're discussing the concept of loss, some fans are like, "AHHHH TALK ABOUT WHAT SALEM HAS LOST TOO GODDAMMIT." It's putting an unfair expectation on Yang and the scene because, again, I don't think that was the time or place for discussing the nuances of morality in a fantasy setting, but because everything else around Salem has been so badly written, and Yang's scene was the closest we've ever gotten to scratching that itch... fans get frustrated that it didn't happen, no matter how unfair or ridiculous that frustration might seem. Really, I don't think fans, in a general sense, actually want Yang to sympathize with Salem then and there. That would be a whole other, messy can of worms given the context. But they want something and at this point "something" has become accepting even really bad versions of what they're looking for. Since no one discussed the vision at the farm, or at Argus, or any time in Atlas, fans are metaphorically throwing up their hands with a, "Well, if we have to delve into Salem's character only when she's doing the most damage in the entire series then fine! You didn't do it earlier when you should have, so this is just what we're left with! Better then nothing! I'm sick of watching Cinder cry and Emerald make quips and Hazel go out in a blaze of heroics and we still haven't even mentioned that our primary antagonist went through more shit than the three of them combined. Am I supposed to be compassionate towards the bad guys or not? Make up your mind, RWBY."
RWBY is a hot mess and the mistakes the story has made, sadly, are not easily separated from one another. Frustration over Yang's scene is prioritizing one problem over another. Namely, the problem of Salem's characterization over the problem of having your hero go "How do you feel though?" while the bad guy is about to kill her. RWBY has backed itself into a corner, both problems exist, but we can only easily discuss one at a time. Similarly, if someone goes, "Ugh they really need to work on Emerald's redemption in Volume 9" people are correct to go, "But if they do that then Volume 8 will look even worse since they've already forgiven her" or "But that's going to be so messy if they're flip-flopping between Vacuo and the island world. Should they even redeem her without the main girls around?" And it's like yes! Exactly! None of these are good options. RWBY has written a situation where ANY choice is going to be a problem on some level because none of this story has been well thought out. So it comes down to which problem an individual fan considers to be, well, more of a problem. In Yang's case it's going, "I will gladly sacrifice the integrity of this scene to get some acknowledgement of a theme that has existed for Salem since early Volume 6 and is now being heavily pushed on other characters in Volume 8. If a stupid moment where Yang is kind to Salem while she's captured is what it takes to start this conversation then fine. I'll take it. Especially when Oscar was kind to Hazel while captured and tortured. You already gave us the stupid scene - just do it again and actually get something out of it this time!"
It is, as said, a twisting, turning mess.
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I Am Not Yours | capitolo ix | Pannacotta Fugo x Reader
Pannacotta Fugo - his name rolls off your tongue like the dry wine Giorno insists be served at dinners. You like the sound of his name far better than you do the taste of Sangiovese. You like his strawberry blonde hair, too. And his violet eyes.
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You are thrown to the floor in a matter of seconds; you do not realize that it was Fugo who has pushed you down until he crouches and shields you with his own body. Bullets whirl, silhouetting against the suspended ceiling lights, and graze the very spot where once you stood.
You were nearly shot, and you would have been if not for him. In his eyes – those brilliant violet eyes – you see a choir of fury and tremendous apologies. The painful grip of his fingers to your arms is numbing. You are unsure whether he holds you like he does to comfort you or to qualm his rage.
Regardless of it all, you trust him to keep you safe. And so, when he tells you to crawl towards the rear exit and to not look back, you do. You clutch the book in your arm as if it is a buoy – as if Fugo might never forgive you for leaving it behind. The asphalt bites into your skin like a starved beast; you have torn your stockings and muddied your skirt.
He ushers you into the space between two dumpsters. There is no time to wrinkle your nose at the odor. Besides, if you are being honest, you would gladly burrow into a heap of discarded goods as sense of insurance to your wellbeing. When he leaves you alone, defenseless in the alleyway, you know that he means for you to stay where you are, and to wait for his return. You do not dwell on if’s, because your faith in Fugo outweighs any lingering doubts that may manifest in your shaken mind.
With the gleam of sunshine and the soft afternoon breeze that carries the scent of baked goods from a nearby confectioner, it is difficult to fathom that such a beautiful day could beckon forth such an inconvenient calamity as this. You tune out the wailing of pain and the pleading for mercy, unsure of whether it is Fugo’s cadence you hear or that of the mafioso, who you will learn had tracked you down with every intention to ransom you to your own brother as compensation for whatever it is that Don Giovanna has done to antagonize the stranger wielding a gun.
Giorno has made enemies in his sojourn to power, and inevitably so. In so doing, you have become a target to disgraced former members of Passione and would-be usurpers. It is why you are never allowed to leave the estate without Sheila, apart from every hour you spend toiling away in a classroom reciting testament verses and learning new techniques to solving the same math equation – it is the reason for the strict curfew pressed upon you.
If your brother could see you now, you suspect he would have you locked away in some secluded cottage along the Tyrrhenian until he is sure that every last threat to your safety has been eradicated. An impossible feat – you reckon that you might never glimpse upon the sun again.  
But you do see Fugo. He finds you once more, panting for breath and fuming with spent energy. A speck of blood adorns his cheek, though you are not inclined to believe that it is his. And yet, despite the tremoring of your hands and the trepidation that positively pulsates through you, there is no one else in this world whom you would rather see right now than him – blood or not.
He leads you towards the car without separating his palm from yours; you are unsure who reached for whom. Do not ask him about the purple-colored smoke that creeps through the broken storefront window – you would not understand his answer, anyways. The drive back to the estate is silent. Fugo bites his lip, brow furrowing as he struggles to process everything that has just happened. He notes your disheveled appearance through the reflection of the rear-view mirror. It is a preferable sight to a corpse. And surely, Don Giovanna will agree.
Parked within the confinement of the garage, neither of you move to exit the Maserati. You show Fugo the book in your hands, insisting that he is now an accomplice to thievery. Your jest brings a smile to his face, and you are inclined to copy it. Yet, when his beaming expression falls into a swift frown, you suddenly feel like a fool – a silly little fool.
Regarding the incident, you both play a mutual game to decide who is at fault. To Fugo, it is he for denying your brother’s orders and keeping you out far longer than he should have. And to you, it is yourself for insisting on traversing to the bookstore beyond a mere trip for coffee. Neither of you can decide, because in the eyes of each other, you are both perpetual saints.
And so, you two settle on mutual innocence.
That does not mean you cannot extend your gratitude regarding his actions. With a flare of verbal confirmation, you lean across the distance and kiss his cheek, just below that dried splatter of blood. His cheeks begin to turn pink, and you fear that you have upset him. Alas, when he leans in to meet you halfway, his hand to your jaw and your lips to his very own, you know that you were terribly wrong.
Love is once, and love is pure – an infatuation so damningly lucrative that you never want to feel this way again, because it will mean that your heart has moved on and the agony of pining was for nothing. If you should ever fall in love after Fugo, you might not forgive yourself. You will savor this moment – this sweet kiss shared in a dimly lit garage – until you can no longer stomach the memory, and devotion has turned to cinders on your tongue.
You like the way his mouth feels against yours, far better than you do a saucer of hot tea or a bit of biscotti. You like the touch of his hand – firm but gentle – that cradles your jaw. And his shudder of breath when he finally pulls away – gaze flickering to your eyes and to your lips again – and finally blushes.
These are a few of the very things you would not mind seeing every day, for the remainder of your days, until you are both dead and gone. For every bit of seemingly fruitless longing, he is at last yours.
end of parte i
| 1073 Words | capitolo xiii | capitolo ix (here) | capitolo x |
Tagging: @honeytea8​ @redbeanboi​ @plavigmaz​
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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 9 months ago
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Minor Weapon Enchantments, 1d186: A +1 magic weapon (Or some system specific version or it) is a staple piece of equipment in nearly every role playing game world. Low levels characters hoard gold and listen for rumors of where an enchanted sword may be found or sold, embarking on epic quests in search of one. Mechanically speaking, there lies a tricky issue for DM’s on when to allow the party to begin acquiring magic weapons. To early and it can throw off challenge rating balance and prevent the collecting of a magic weapon to be a significant milestone for the character. If enchanted weapons are scarce, martial characters (And the players who control them) can become discontent and feel slighted or that they are unable to keep up against enemies that are resistant or wholly immune to mundane weapons. To combat this issue I have developed and collected an extensive amount of Minor Weapon Enchantments. While +1 weapon is the gold standard of enchanting, constantly providing its bonuses to any wielder and never demanding anything in return for its service, these minor bonuses are weaker as they come with trade-offs, risks, prerequisites, limited uses or niche benefits. I personally consider them +0.5 enchantments as although they are better than nothing, they aren’t as good as their +1 kin. Weapons with these benefits can be given to PC’s much lower level than would be appropriate than a +1 and provide experienced players new ways to interact with their weapons. These enchantments provide feat-like bonuses, low level class abilities, modify damage types, provide short bursts of power or replicate the effects of low levels spells. The flavorful descriptions allow even a simple dagger to appear unique and special, creating a richer and more immersive world.
Accursed: The fiendish visage of a demon has been branded into the grip of the weapon. The weapon bears small infernal runes along its length that provide the wielder power at the cost of his personal well being. Knowledgeable PCs are able to determine that the symbols are not a demonic contract, nor does the source of the power stem from hellish origin. Rather the abyssal glyphs forcibly draw energy from the wielder’s mental and physical defenses, worsening his ability to protect himself from harm. The weapon is treated as a +1 but while the weapon is being wielded and for one hour afterwards, the bearer suffers a penalty of -1 on all of his saving throws.
Shiftsword: The symbol of a different Random Melee Weapon (See Note) is etched into the grip of this Random Melee Weapon. This enchantment was tailor made for adventurers who wish to travel light while still retaining access to an assortment of armaments. The weapon is imbued with transmutation magic and once per round on his turn, the wielder can concentrate for a fraction of a moment (Taking an action equivalent to drawing a weapon), to cause the weapon to instantaneously change from its current form to the type of weapon etched onto the grip or back again. Any observer can clearly tell that both of the weapon’s forms are of exceptional workmanship and that a great deal of time and skill went into their creation. Both weapons gain a single Random Masterwork Bonus (Either the same for each or two different benefits, DM’s discretion). —Note: I recommend choosing two melee weapons that serve different purposes or deal different types of damage or a one handed weapon and a two handed weapon to increase the wielder’s variety of attack options. A mace that turns into a halberd is far more useful than a mace that turns into a club.
Peaceful Rest: The image of a corpse with its arms peacefully crossed over its chest, coins covering its eyes and a serene smile on its face is etched on the grip of the weapon. The bearer feels a sense of serenity and calmness over the prospect of their mortality and is able to accept the grim inevitable with stoicism and grace. The bearer will still fight to the bitter end against hopeless odds to save their own life or that of an ally but the wielder knows that with his last breath he will great death as an old friend and go gladly into the light. If a creature is dealt a killing blow from this weapon, their body does not rot or decay in any way for seven days and during this time the body cannot be made into an undead. The effect also extends the time limit on raising the target from the dead and days spent under the influence of the weapon’s effect don’t count against the time limit of spells such as raise dead. Should a creature be killed while actively wielding the weapon, their body is also affected in the same manner. —Note: Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Wild Magic: A large glyph of raw magic is emblazoned on the business end of the weapon. With each successful strike in combat, the mark pulses and flickers with barely contained power always threatening to burst free from the weapon’s confines and alter the very fabric of reality. On truly remarkable attacks, a small portion of the untamed sorcery surges free and causes unpredictable effects. Whenever the wielder lands a critical hit on an attack roll with the weapon, the player must roll on the Wild Magic Surge Table and that effect occurs in addition to the critical hit. While rolling on the table, the wielder is considered the “caster” and the critical hit is considered “spell” for the purposes of the surge. —Note: The DM could also rule that the magic surges on a natural 1, however many of the table’s results are based on a successful attack / spell. For D&D 5e players the DM can choose to have the player roll on my homebrew tables of effects on this blog, the published Sorcerer’s Wild Magic Surge table or any other random effect table you can find. Should the player roll on a result that would be grossly detrimental for the campaign (Such as casting Fireball at their own feet resulting in a TPK) the DM should feel free to have the player reroll. Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Cinders: The weapon is fashioned from smoldering materials and the symbol of a tongue of flame is branded into the grip. Embers still crackle and burn in the charred wooden components and metallic parts have cherry red business ends with tiny rivulets of liquid metal trailing along the weapon’s length. The entire object is surrounded by a wavy heat mirage and although the weapon feels warm to the touch, it is never hot enough to damage a creature who simply holds it, nor will the weapon ignite objects on contact. The weapon’s fiery power deal burning injuries that scorch the skin and leave charred, smoldering corpses in the wielder’s wake. When used in combat, the wielder’s hands become coated in a fine layer of ashes and on a successful attack with the weapon, the wielder can choose to have all of the damage dealt be considered fire damage rather than the weapon's normal damage type. Projectile ranged weapons will ignite their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Nightmares: The handle of the weapon is pitch black and seems to soak in the ambient light around it. Whenever a creature makes contact with the weapon, (Be they the wielder or target) that creature relives a fleeting instant of a long forgotten childhood nightmare before the memory quickly submerges back into their subconscious. Twice per day, when the wielder lands a successful attack against an enemy he can choose to cause that creature to suffer from severe night terrors during their next eight hours (Consecutive or non-consecutive) of sleep as they experience a vivid and specific Random Nightmare. The victim’s sleep is plagued with thrashing and screaming as they frequently bolt awake terrified, drenched in cold sweat, their heart pounding heavily in their chest. The creature’s sleep is so disturbed by the nightmares that they gain no benefits from the rest whatsoever. —Note: Projectile weapons with this enchantment bestow the magic upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Patience: The length of the weapon is covered in a complicated pattern of swirling silver whorls that calm and soothe a creature who observes it. At the first moment of combat, the bearer senses that the battle may go better for them if they take a moment to observe the situation and ready themselves before joining the fray. When initiative is rolled,  if the bearer chooses (Before rolling) to go last in the initiative order, the silver patterning begins to glow a dull red and the weapon is treated as a +1 weapon for that wielder until the end of combat.
Wolfbrother: A weapon simple in its design, lacking any sort of flair or decoration save for the imprint of a leaping wolf stamped into the leather grip. A bearer feels a sense of animalistic cunning from the weapon and that despite its simple appearance, it is much more than it seems. After three days in the possession of a bearer who has never deliberately harmed or killed a wolf, the bearer’s eyes become a bright yellow even golden color, glow faintly in the dark and catch the light, granting a wolfish appearance. This effect fades 24 hours after the weapon has left the wielder’s possession. A wolf eyed wielder takes on some of the heightened senses of the untamed wolf and can see in low or dim light as if it was bright light and gains advantage to any perception checks made regarding their sense of smell. Wolves are pack hunters and a golden eyed bearer instinctually benefits from a nearby ally while in combat, using the minor distraction to go for the enemy’s throat. The wielder gains a +1 on damage rolls with the weapon if an allied creature is within five feet of the target. Bearers who have ever harmed or killed wolves feel a strong sense of betrayal and revulsion when touching the weapon and they cannot benefit from its magic nor are they considered proficient with the weapon. —Note: Recommended for melee weapons.
Bloodied: The symbol of a ferocious, wild eyed badger is etched on the grip of the weapon. A healthy bearer can feel the faintest hint of dormant, primal rage at the back of their mind waiting patiently for its power to be called upon. The knowledge of this emergency, animalistic violence hibernating within himself can leave the bearer comforted or uneasy, depending on how civilized or evolved he views himself. When the wielder is heavily injured the wielder flies into a bestial frenzy and channels that power into the weapon, which is treated as a +1 if the wielder has less than half of his total hit points remaining. This adrenaline fueled rage immediately departs a wielder whose life is not in immediate danger (Above half of his total hit points) as the primal urges retreat back into dormancy rather than further taxing the wielder’s energy.
Tithing: The holy symbol of a God of a Random Domain is etched on the grip of the weapon. The object functions as a direct spiritual connection to that deity and a creature can make offerings directly to the God in return for a minor blessing. The bearer may lay ten gold coins (See Note) along the surface of the weapon and pray to the God for ten minutes. At the end of this ritual, the gold coins vanish and the weapon is treated as a +1 weapon for the next eight hours but only for the creature who prayed. The bearer feels a strong sense of religious devotion during the eight hour span and feels motivated to carry out the basic tenets of the domain the God represents. The wielder is not compelled to act in this way and is not forced to violate any strongly held morals or beliefs. —Note: Rather than a flat ten gold, the DM can rule of another flat value, X gold per character level or other reasonable amount. Not recommended for ammunition or thrown weapons.
—Most of these enchantments have not been playtested whatsoever, so feel free to make any modifications that you feel like to use them in your campaigns.
—Follow the links for the Unique Weapons or Random Weapon tables to find examples of base weapons that these enchantments can be applied to.  
—Keep reading for 176 more minor weapon enchantments.
—Note: The previous 10 minor weapon enchantments are repeated here.
Accursed: The fiendish visage of a demon has been branded into the grip of the weapon. The weapon bears small infernal runes along its length that provide the wielder power at the cost of his personal well being. Knowledgeable PCs are able to determine that the symbols are not a demonic contract, nor does the source of the power stem from hellish origin. Rather the abyssal glyphs forcibly draw energy from the wielder’s mental and physical defenses, worsening his ability to protect himself from harm. The weapon is treated as a +1 but while the weapon is being wielded and for one hour afterwards, the bearer suffers a penalty of -1 on all of his saving throws.
Shiftsword: The symbol of a different Random Melee Weapon (See Note) is etched into the grip of this Random Melee Weapon. This enchantment was tailor made for adventurers who wish to travel light while still retaining access to an assortment of armaments. The weapon is imbued with transmutation magic and once per round on his turn, the wielder can concentrate for a fraction of a moment (Taking an action equivalent to drawing a weapon), to cause the weapon to instantaneously change from its current form to the type of weapon etched onto the grip or back again. Any observer can clearly tell that both of the weapon’s forms are of exceptional workmanship and that a great deal of time and skill went into their creation. Both weapons gain a single Random Masterwork Bonus (Either the same for each or two different benefits, DM’s discretion). —Note: I recommend choosing two melee weapons that serve different purposes or deal different types of damage or a one handed weapon and a two handed weapon to increase the wielder’s variety of attack options. A mace that turns into a halberd is far more useful than a mace that turns into a club.
Peaceful Rest: The image of a corpse with its arms peacefully crossed over its chest, coins covering its eyes and a serene smile on its face is etched on the grip of the weapon. The bearer feels a sense of serenity and calmness over the prospect of their mortality and is able to accept the grim inevitable with stoicism and grace. The bearer will still fight to the bitter end against hopeless odds to save their own life or that of an ally but the wielder knows that with his last breath he will great death as an old friend and go gladly into the light. If a creature is dealt a killing blow from this weapon, their body does not rot or decay in any way for seven days and during this time the body cannot be made into an undead. The effect also extends the time limit on raising the target from the dead and days spent under the influence of the weapon’s effect don’t count against the time limit of spells such as raise dead. Should a creature be killed while actively wielding the weapon, their body is also affected in the same manner. —Note: Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Wild Magic: A large glyph of raw magic is emblazoned on the business end of the weapon. With each successful strike in combat, the mark pulses and flickers with barely contained power always threatening to burst free from the weapon’s confines and alter the very fabric of reality. On truly remarkable attacks, a small portion of the untamed sorcery surges free and causes unpredictable effects. Whenever the wielder lands a critical hit on an attack roll with the weapon, the player must roll on the Wild Magic Surge Table and that effect occurs in addition to the critical hit. While rolling on the table, the wielder is considered the “caster” and the critical hit is considered “spell” for the purposes of the surge. —Note: The DM could also rule that the magic surges on a natural 1, however many of the table’s results are based on a successful attack / spell. For D&D 5e players the DM can choose to have the player roll on my homebrew tables of effects on this blog, the published Sorcerer’s Wild Magic Surge table or any other random effect table you can find. Should the player roll on a result that would be grossly detrimental for the campaign (Such as casting Fireball at their own feet resulting in a TPK) the DM should feel free to have the player reroll. Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Cinders: The weapon is fashioned from smoldering materials and the symbol of a tongue of flame is branded into the grip. Embers still crackle and burn in the charred wooden components and metallic parts have cherry red business ends with tiny rivulets of liquid metal trailing along the weapon’s length. The entire object is surrounded by a wavy heat mirage and although the weapon feels warm to the touch, it is never hot enough to damage a creature who simply holds it, nor will the weapon ignite objects on contact. The weapon’s fiery power deal burning injuries that scorch the skin and leave charred, smoldering corpses in the wielder’s wake. When used in combat, the wielder’s hands become coated in a fine layer of ashes and on a successful attack with the weapon, the wielder can choose to have all of the damage dealt be considered fire damage rather than the weapon's normal damage type. Projectile ranged weapons will ignite their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Nightmares: The handle of the weapon is pitch black and seems to soak in the ambient light around it. Whenever a creature makes contact with the weapon, (Be they the wielder or target) that creature relives a fleeting instant of a long forgotten childhood nightmare before the memory quickly submerges back into their subconscious. Twice per day, when the wielder lands a successful attack against an enemy he can choose to cause that creature to suffer from severe night terrors during their next eight hours (Consecutive or non-consecutive) of sleep as they experience a vivid and specific Random Nightmare. The victim’s sleep is plagued with thrashing and screaming as they frequently bolt awake terrified, drenched in cold sweat, their heart pounding heavily in their chest. The creature’s sleep is so disturbed by the nightmares that they gain no benefits from the rest whatsoever. —Note: Projectile weapons with this enchantment bestow the magic upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Patience: The length of the weapon is covered in a complicated pattern of swirling silver whorls that calm and soothe a creature who observes it. At the first moment of combat, the bearer senses that the battle may go better for them if they take a moment to observe the situation and ready themselves before joining the fray. When initiative is rolled,  if the bearer chooses (Before rolling) to go last in the initiative order, the silver patterning begins to glow a dull red and the weapon is treated as a +1 weapon for that wielder until the end of combat.
Wolfbrother: A weapon simple in its design, lacking any sort of flair or decoration save for the imprint of a leaping wolf stamped into the leather grip. A bearer feels a sense of animalistic cunning from the weapon and that despite its simple appearance, it is much more than it seems. After three days in the possession of a bearer who has never deliberately harmed or killed a wolf, the bearer’s eyes become a bright yellow even golden color, glow faintly in the dark and catch the light, granting a wolfish appearance. This effect fades 24 hours after the weapon has left the wielder’s possession. A wolf eyed wielder takes on some of the heightened senses of the untamed wolf and can see in low or dim light as if it was bright light and gains advantage to any perception checks made regarding their sense of smell. Wolves are pack hunters and a golden eyed bearer instinctually benefits from a nearby ally while in combat, using the minor distraction to go for the enemy’s throat. The wielder gains a +1 on damage rolls with the weapon if an allied creature is within five feet of the target. Bearers who have ever harmed or killed wolves feel a strong sense of betrayal and revulsion when touching the weapon and they cannot benefit from its magic nor are they considered proficient with the weapon. —Note: Recommended for melee weapons.
Bloodied: The symbol of a ferocious, wild eyed badger is etched on the grip of the weapon. A healthy bearer can feel the faintest hint of dormant, primal rage at the back of their mind waiting patiently for its power to be called upon. The knowledge of this emergency, animalistic violence hibernating within himself can leave the bearer comforted or uneasy, depending on how civilized or evolved he views himself. When the wielder is heavily injured the wielder flies into a bestial frenzy and channels that power into the weapon, which is treated as a +1 if the wielder has less than half of his total hit points remaining. This adrenaline fueled rage immediately departs a wielder whose life is not in immediate danger (Above half of his total hit points) as the primal urges retreat back into dormancy rather than further taxing the wielder’s energy.
Tithing: The holy symbol of a God of a Random Domain is etched on the grip of the weapon. The object functions as a direct spiritual connection to that deity and a creature can make offerings directly to the God in return for a minor blessing. The bearer may lay ten gold coins (See Note) along the surface of the weapon and pray to the God for ten minutes. At the end of this ritual, the gold coins vanish and the weapon is treated as a +1 weapon for the next eight hours but only for the creature who prayed. The bearer feels a strong sense of religious devotion during the eight hour span and feels motivated to carry out the basic tenets of the domain the God represents. The wielder is not compelled to act in this way and is not forced to violate any strongly held morals or beliefs. —Note: Rather than a flat ten gold, the DM can rule of another flat value, X gold per character level or other reasonable amount. Not recommended for ammunition or thrown weapons.
Bonded Power: The symbol of a hand holding this weapon is etched into the weapon’s grip. The lines of the symbol where the hand and the weapon meet are blurred, making it hard to distinguish them as separate entities. The bearer understands that although the weapon is lethal in it’s own right, it’s true power can only be obtained by physically bonding with it. On the wielder’s turn he may activate the weapon’s magic, causing the grip to animate and wrap itself around the wielder’s fist and burrowing into the skin of his hand, creating an unnatural union of weapon and flesh. This process takes an action equivalent to making an attack or casting a spell. The wielder feels an unpleasant amount of pressure but no actual pain and takes no damage as the material penetrates the skin, forcing it to remain grasped to the handle. The weapon becomes more powerful and deadly as it fused with its wielder and is treated as a +1 while bonded. While attached to the wielder’s hand, the weapon cannot be released or disarmed and the wielder cannot use that hand for tasks requiring any sort of manual dexterity as the hand is considered actively wielding the weapon at all times. To sever the bond to the weapon the wielder can spend one minute cutting and prying away the fused areas, suffering one hit point of damage per character level (Or 10% of his maximum health or other equivalent amount), or he can take an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell and use a free hand to rip it off by force, dealing twice that amount of damage to himself due to the sheer amount of lost skin and tissue. —Note: For two handed weapons, the weapon only bonds to a single hand (Wielder’s choice) leaving the other one free to interact with other objects, however the wielder must still use both hands to make attacks with it as normal. This allows the wielder to hold a bonded crossbow in one hand while the other retrieves a potion, makes a rude gestures or loads said crossbow. Not recommended for ammunition or thrown weapons.  
Flamboyant: A fine looking weapon with a pictorial representation of the last magical sound the weapon made outlined in the last color it was ordered to shine in, emblazoned on the grip. When the weapon is drawn, the wielder may mentally command the weapon to shine up to or as bright as a torch in any color they choose and can choose to cause the weapon to create any noise they can imagine, which can be up to as loud as one grown man yelling. The wielder cannot alter the ongoing effect but may suppress it at any time. Both effects are illusionary and last until the weapon no longer held, the wielder dismisses it or until one minute passes. The weapon requires one hour of recharging before the magic can be activated again. Knowledgeable PC’s will know that these weapons are often used by highwayman, charlatans and bards to fake an actual magic weapon or bluff an enemy into believing they have a specific type of weapon enchantment. For example, a “Holy” weapon can be faked with a pure high pitched tone and a bright white light, while an “Evil” enchantment would be the sound of a deep horn, dirge or pained wail accompanied by dark reds, purples, or sickly green colors. Occasionally lesser nobles or knights will use these and display their main house colors and cause the cry of their house animal. This weapon enchantment is rarely used by those with the money to afford better as the magic is illusory and not long lasting.
Conquest: The weapon is tinted white and the symbol of a horse and crown are etched into the grip. The weapon is lavishly decorated with images of triumphant battles and the bearer is filled with the urge to conquer and be victorious over all others. The weapon rewards those who spread the message of their dominion over others and if the weapon is used to land a killing blow on an intelligent creature while being witnessed by at least three other non-allied, intelligent creatures, the weapon glows slightly and functions as a +1 for the next eight hours for that wielder only. The eight hour timer is reset each time the wielder meets the enchantment’s requirements. —Note: Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Depths: A flowing motif of tidal waves decorates the weapon’s grip. The weapon is constantly damp and drips saltwater intermittently and when grasped, the wielder’s ears pop as if subjected to a drastic change in pressure. If the weapon is completely submerged in saltwater it is treated as +1 for the next hour.
Morning Glow: The symbol of a newly rising sun is etched on the weapon’s grip. When wielded, a dull yellow glow similar to a sunrise emanates from the business end of the weapon. The weapon’s light flares on contact with an enemy and a creature struck by the weapon suffers disadvantage on visual perception checks until the end of its next turn. The weapon is considered a +1 against creatures who are harmed or sensitive to natural sunlight and such creatures are never considered proficient with the weapon due to its flaring light.
Risen: The hieroglyphic symbol of an ankh is etched on the weapon’s grip. Whenever the wielder quickly regains health, he feels an overwhelming rush of strength and vigor as the weapon harmonies with the sudden rush of vitality and becomes empowered in its own right. If the wielder has regained more than 1 hit point per character level (Or 10% of his maximum hit points or other equivalent amount) through any source or means since the start of his last turn, the weapon is treated as a +1 until the end of the wielder’s next turn.
Legacy: An antique handed down from generation to generation, within a well-established organization (See Note), this ancient weapon was masterfully crafted and has been lovingly cared for by each passing member. The weapon sports decorations and coloring based on the institution and is an unmistakable physical symbol of their long lasting existence. The group’s crest, sigil or emblem is emblazoned on the weapon’s grip and their motto, adage or creed (Roll a Random Motto or DM’s discretion) is expertly carved into its blade or shaft. The object is a true masterpiece from a time when that meant something and the weapon gains a Random Masterwork Bonus (DM’s choice or roll randomly, rerolling Impervious). Despite its age, the heirloom is in remarkable shape and is extraordinarily durable, and any wielder can plainly feel the solid construction under its unyielding form. The weapon is five times harder to damage than a typical one of its kind and never breaks, chips or dulls as a result of casual use and is all but impossible to break or damage as a result of combat, even when targeted by enemies who attempt sundering or weapon breaking techniques. —Note: Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition. Depending on your game system the weapon may either have five times as many hitpoints or have a greatly increased hardness or damage reducing quality. If there is no existing system in place and weapons simply break or do not break as a result of damage, consider giving the weapon five “charges” or “lives”. Each time it would be broken as a result of damage, it instead remains fully intact but looses a life or charge and it is destroyed when all five have been used up. This weapon requires a little more setup than others on this table but allows a DM to drop in a physical piece of lore and tradition. A DM can either have the weapon originate from an in-game organization relevant to the plot and give it a masterwork quality and motto that fit in well their ideals or generate one at random to provide a richer world. Examples of organizations can include: 1, Assassin’s guild 2, Mercenary company 3, Paladin order 4, A national or royal military 5, Order of werewolf, vampire, witch or monster hunters 6, A long standing family, clan or tribe 7, An adventurers or explores league 8, A forbidden cult 9, The followers of the God of Random Domain 10, An order of warmages. 11, A secret society that subtly influences political events 12, A circle of druids or nature wardens
Rampaging: The symbol of a charging bull is etched onto the grip of this weapon. Simply holding the weapon fills the wielder with barely controlled rage and the desire to run down their enemies and stomp them into the dirt. These feelings are magnified in combat and the wielder is flooded with vitality and power whenever they vanquish an enemy. Upon killing a creature, the bearer can immediately move up to half his base move speed towards any enemy they can see. This movement still provokes any attacks of opportunities as normal but does not count against their total move speed for the turn. —Note: Not recommended for ranged weapons of ammunition.
Magewright Made: This masterpiece of a weapon was created entirely by magical means by the arcane order of the magewrights. The ancient order was comprised of hardworking mages who were all gifted craftsmen in one trade or another and who used magic as their main tool in all steps of their creative process. This weapon in particular was made entirely from summoned or conjured materials that were then forged, carved and sculpted by eldritch power, adorned with  quenched in the magewright’s own blood before spending weeks undergoing polishing, buffing and cleansing spells to ensure that it be without physical flaw, inside and out. The resulting tool of violence is a testament to the magewright guild and to the power of harnessed magic wielded with a driven purpose by a true eclectic master of magic and weaponcraft. It gains a Random Masterwork Bonus (DM’s choice or roll randomly, rerolling Spellbound) as the weapon spent such a great deal of time exposed to mana in its rawest form, it tingles with power imbued by the countless overlapping magical fields it spent so much time in. It has retained enough mystical essence for it to be considered a magical weapon for the purposes of overcoming resistances, damage reduction and other defenses. —Note: Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Visionary: Etched into the grip of this weapon are nearly a dozen different simple pictographic symbols including the four primal elements (Water, earth, fire and air), a symbol of magic, a human brain, a lightning bolt, a musical note and a holy and unholy symbol, that are all clustered around the image of an open eye. The weapon looks standard for its type until it is picked up, at which point it takes on a specific elemental or metaphysical quality in response to a specific physical trait of the wielder, instantly changing to match each new wielder. Once held, the weapon begins to glow the same colour as the wielder’s eyes and on a successful attack with the weapon, the wielder can choose to have all of the damage dealt be considered X damage rather than the weapon's normal damage type based on the wielder’s eye colour (See Note). The weapon displays no special function for creatures without a natural eye colour or who lack eyes entirely and creatures with multiple eyes colours can will the weapon to glow and deal damage in either of their natural eye colours. —Note: The X for damage is based on the wielder’s eye colour and associated damage types are as follows: Amber / yellow = Lighting. Black = Necrotic Blue = Cold. Brown = Acid. Green = Force. Gray = Thunder. Hazel = Poison. Purple = Psychic. Red = Fire. White = Radiant.
Quickness: The grip of the weapon is covered with a motif of small blue lighting bolts. When held, the weapon begins to vibrate so quickly that its edges shimmer and blur as if hidden behind a heat mirage. At the same time a faint sound, similar to the buzzing of insect wings, can be heard and the wielder is flooded with torrents of physical energy and the desire to go fast. The wielder’s base movement speed is increased by five feet for as long as the weapon is held. After releasing the weapon, the magical stimulation immediately departs leaving the creature with sore muscles and a sense of lethargy that lasts about a minute.  
Death’s Toll: The symbol of a heavy bell inscribed with a human skull, is etched into the grip of the weapon. When the weapon is used to land a killing blow on a living creature, the weapon emits a deep loud reverberation just like a large gong or heavy bell. The heavy tones remind all those who hear it of the fleeting nature of life and their own mortality. The wielder can then lock eyes with any living creature within 60 feet and cause them to become frightened of the wielder until the end of that creature’s next turn.
Youthful: The symbol of an hourglass with most of the sand in the top half is etched into the weapon’s grip. A creature holding the weapon feels youthful, as if the weight of all the responsibilities, regrets and consequences in the wielder’s life has been lifted away. The weapon is treated as a +1 if the wielder is the youngest intelligent creature within 100 feet.
Heartbreaking: A simple, unembellished weapon save for a large gem the color of blood on snow, seamlessly embedded into its grip. The large gem glows bright and warm when the wielder is within the presence of someone they truly love. If the weapon is used to purposely kill someone that the wielder truly loves (DM’s discretion), the weapon is permanently treated as a +1 for that wielder alone. This process can be repeated with any number of wielders who are willing to make the sacrifice.
Seeming: A large weapon with arcane runes carved along its length, with a pommel consisting of the shrunken head of an illusionist wizard. When in the bearer’s possession, it creates an illusion of normalcy that completely conceals any mutations, amputations, horrifying scars, disfiguring marks, curse brands, burns, tattoos or other strange, immediately identifying or unnatural features, causing its bearer to seem completely and perfectly ordinary for his race and gender. Essentially this causes the bearer to be disguised in an illusion that is a generic unremarkable version of themselves. While the illusion is active, the bearer gains advantage on checks made to pass themselves off as another person and other creatures gain disadvantage on checks made to recognize the bearer.  This is an illusionary effect and although perceptive creatures could spot inconsistencies with the illusion, most creatures would never notice. The bearer can choose to activate or suppress this ability at will. —Note: Not recommended for ammunition or throwing weapons.
Black Ice: The business end of the weapon is covered in a thick layer of what appears to be highly polished silver that’s constantly shedding small clouds of fog. Closer inspection reveals the material to be frozen quicksilver that never melts or loses its icy nature. Knowledgeable PC’s will actually recognize the material as mercury mined by ice demons from the lowest circle of the nine hells, a place of perpetual frost where traitors betrayers and oathbreakers are tortured within the unyielding ice for eternity. The treacheries of these souls are punished by denying them the love of the Gods and of all human warmth. When the weapon strikes a target, small particles of the fiendish metal works into the victim’s skin freezing the tissues before melting, causing the toxic liquid mercury to course through the creature’s bloodstream. Half of the damage dealt by the weapon is considered cold damage, while the other half is poison, no mundane damage is dealt. The demonic material retains the wretched properties of the Abyss and can actually corrupt and become empowered by mundane quicksilver. If two ounces of ordinary mercury is poured over its hellspawned counterpart (Using up the regular mercury in the process), the weapon is treated as a +1 for the next hour. The weapon is not without its flaws however and is tainted with the sin of treachery and will turn on the mortal who trusts it most. A wielder who rolls a natural 1 on an attack roll must roll damage as normal for the attack and deals half of that damage to themselves, as the weapon seems to twist in their hands and nicks them. —Note: Not recommended for ranged weapons. Two ounces of mercury can provide the +1 for up to 15 pieces of ammunition or thrown weapons at a time.
Elemental Attunement: The unified symbol of the four natural elements (Fire, earth, air and water) is etched into the grip of the weapon. The weapon is always attuned to one of the four elements at all times, which provides the wielder power at a cost. When carried, the bearer gains a physical link to the particular element the weapon is attuned to and feels warm, solid, light or damp and causes their eyes glow faintly in a color matching the element’s energy. This allows the bearer to channel the weapon’s power in combat so that whenever the wielder successfully strikes a target, he inflicts fire, acid, electrical or cold damage equivalent to a dagger (1d4, Based on which element the weapon is attuned to) in addition to the attack's damage. However, due to the deeper connection the bearer has to that element, whenever the bearer would take the elemental damage of the same type that he is attuned to, that damage is rolled twice and the bearer takes the higher result. This occurs whenever the weapon is on the bearer’s person, even when not actively wielded. The bearer can change the weapon’s attunement through a ten minute ritual by directly exposing the weapon to the new element such as holding it over a candle’s flame, covering it in soil, holding it up to a light breeze or submerging it in water. This ritual never damages the weapon and the bearer wills the weapon to change its attunement, making it impossible to do accidentally. —Note: Since the weapon is always attuned, the DM can roll a d4 or choose which element the weapon is linked to when it is found. Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Icy: The weapon is fashioned from frigid materials and the symbol of a snowflake is carved into the frost on the grip. The frozen implement never melts or cracks, even in the fiercest of heat but will mist and emit water vapor in warm temperatures. Although the object feels cold to the touch, the ice never freezes material it touches or cause frostbite in its wielder. The weapon’s icy magics create rime rimmed wounds that leak slushy, half frozen blood from blackened, frostbitten flesh. When used in combat, the wielder’s hands become coated in a fine layer of frost (Which deals no damage and melts normally) on a successful attack with the weapon, the wielder can choose to have all of the damage dealt be considered cold damage rather than the weapon's normal damage type. Projectile ranged weapons will freeze their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Unquiet Dead: The symbol of a skeletal hand bursting up from the earth of a fresh grave is etched on the grip of the weapon. When the bearer sees a fresh corpse their mind is distracted with faint whispers of forbidden utterances, visions of unholy symbols and quasi-memories of black rituals. The ensorcelled weapon contains the profane wisdom of experienced necromancers and is imbued with a small portion of their knowledge and raw magical power. When the weapon is used to kill, it leaves a seed of necromantic energy in the resulting corpse. This spark of unholy flame can be fanned by conventional necromantic spells if they are cast before the black fire burns itself out. A living creature dealt a killing blow by this weapon, only needs half of the costly material components (Such as onyx gems, rare incense or diamonds) that the spell requires need in order to raise it as an undead creature. This benefit lasts for one hour after the creature is killed after which it requires the normal amount of materials. —Note: For example, if Animate Dead is cast on a corpse and it would normally need an onyx gem worth 50 gp, the weapon’s enchantment reduces that cost to a gem worth only 25 gp for one hour after the creature is killed by the weapon.
Ki Focusing: The airy symbol of three wavy lines is painted onto the grip of the weapon in beautiful flowing calligraphy. When held, the weapon hums in a deep, centering tone that is barely audible, yet strangely compelling to concentrate on and use as a meditative focus. A wielder feels connected to his inner self and at any time, can assume a relaxed position and enter a meditative trance. In this state the wielder turns his inner eye to his spiritual self and becomes unaware of his surroundings. The wielder is aware of how long he’s been meditating for and can instantly rouse himself from the trance becoming fully awake at any time. He is automatically roused from the trance if he takes any sort of damage, is physically moved, his name is spoken within earshot or if he is no longer touching the weapon. Time spent in this meditative state fulfills the same purpose as sleeping for an equivalent amount of time (Making eight hours of broken up meditation over the course of a 24 hour period equivalent to a full night’s sleep) but they must meditate in at least 30 minute increments. A weapon must match itself to its bearer’s unique energy flows and the first time it is used, the bearer must meditate using the weapon for a period of four consecutive hours before they can benefit from the meditative sleep. The weapon can only be attuned to one creature at a time.
Ruthless: The image of a mercenary dealing the final deathblow to a heavily wounded enemy is etched on the grip of the weapon. The bearer’s perception’s seem to speed up in combat and he can all but smell out a wounded enemy, feeling the urge to pounce on the weak, like a wolf taking down the most injured member of a herd. The bearer understands that there’s no fairness in love or war and that allowing a battered foe to recover for a fair fight only means that you value your enemy’s life more than your own. The weapon is treated as a +1 if the target has less than half of their total hit points remaining.
Indomitable: The symbol of a bear rearing up on its hind legs as a show of force is etched on the grip of the weapon. The wielder feels strong and physically powerful, as if they could wrestle bears with nothing but their hands and win. The bearer gains advantage on checks made to initiate or break grapples, holds, clinches, wrestle other creatures or break out of restraints such as weighted nets. If the bearer is being grappled or restrained by multiple sources and is trying to break loose, he may choose to break the strongest hold on him (The check with the highest DC or creature with the highest modifier) and if successful, the bearer breaks free from all grapples and restraints with the same action. In order to benefit from these effects, the bearer must be actively wielding the weapon or have been wielding it at some point within the last 30 seconds. —Note: Recommended for melee weapons.
Alarm: The symbol of a Random Creature Type is etched into the grip of the weapon. The enchantment serves as a warning beacon to its bearer that enemies are nearby and that the wielder should prepare themselves for battle. The weapon begins to glow with the intensity of a candle when a creature of the symbol’s type is within 200 feet of the weapon. If a creature of that type is within 100 feet of the weapon it shines as bright as a torch. When that creature type is within 50 feet of the weapon, it emits a shrill whistling noise in additional to the bright light. The bearer is able to suppress or resume any of these effects with a thought. —Note: The DM can assign one colour for both lights or two different colours to better differentiate between them such as yellow within 200 feet and red within 100 feet.
Dryad’s Blessing: A simple weapon made almost entirely out of wood with accents of stone or animals products (See Note), the lethal tool has a rugged and wild appearance. The weapon lacks a single tool mark and seems as though it was grown into shape rather than carved. The wielder feels a deep and strong connection to the natural world and develops an emotional attachment to the supernatural creatures who guard the earth from those who would abuse and corrupt it. Knowledgeable PC’s will be able to determine that the object’s wood was willingly sacrificed by a dryad who grew it of herself into a weapon to strike back against the intruders of her sacred forest. The wielder is filled with a sense of reverence and utmost respect for the wilderness and the weapon functions as a +1 if the wielder has never personally cut down (Or directly aided in cutting down) a healthy living tree in his life. —Note: The DM can decide exactly how some weapons are crafted without any metal components. A rapier for example could have a wooden hilt with the blade made of a single giant porcupine quill, while a garrote could be fashioned from two wooden handles with a cord of braided vines or sinew.
Greed: The symbol of an open hand is stamped in gold leaf on the grip of this weapon. The bearer develops a nagging feeling of unfulfillment and that whatever he has is not enough. He begins to feel that collecting more material possessions and amassing an increasing amount of wealth of any variety will satisfy his soul and bring him peace. The bearer is aware that using the weapon against others may grant him more gold to add to his horde and that causing pain and injury to others is worth it if the end result is more gold in his pocket. The bearer is never forced to act on these feelings but so long as he carries the weapon he may be swayed by its avarice. When the wielder lands a critical hit, instead of producing blood, ichor or sloughs of undead flesh, the target sheds droplets of pure gold. The equivalent of one gold coin per point of hit point damage dealt by the critical hit (In total, to a maximum limit of the amount of hit points the target has remaining), tumbles out of the target’s body and falls to the ground in small nuggets to be collected after the fight. —Note: DM’s can change the effect to function on the first time per day the wielder lands a critical hit if they feel their players will get distracted trying to abuse the effect to get rich rather than treating it as a fun, novel weapon.
Light Launcher: The symbol of a shooting star is etched on the grip of the weapon. When a projectile is fired from this weapon the wielder is able to cause it to emit light that’s as dim as a dull glow to as bright as a fresh torch, with nothing more than a mental command. The wielder chooses the colour of the light and can choose to have the projectile emit light the moment the ammunition is launched, halfway to the target or immediately upon impact (Hit or miss). The ammunition emits light for up to one minute, until the wielder mentally dismisses it or until a second projectile is enchanted with light. The wielder can choose to fire ammunition without enchanting them and can enchant up to two pieces of ammunition per hour. —Note: Recommended for Projectile Ranged Weapons.  Can be applied to Ammunition and Thrown Weapons in which they can only be set alight once, but the wielder can have multiple units of ammunition illuminated at a time.
Sanguin: The symbol of a drop of blood is etched into the grip of the weapon. The weapon is pristine and any blood that touches the weapon is immediately absorbed into itself, leaving no trace. The weapon possesses a monstrous thirst for blood and gore that can never be fully sated but can be temporarily quenched. The weapon passes along this bloodlust to the wielder who never craves blood for himself but is given the understanding that providing the weapon with what it desires will increase its power. If the weapon is plunged into a freshly deceased creature (See Note) and remains there for at least one uninterrupted hour, it is treated as a +1 for eight hours after being withdrawn from the body. During this time the weapon draws all the blood and general moisture from the corpse leaving it a desiccated husk when it is withdrawn. —Note: The creature should be no more than 12 hours dead, be the size of a wolf or larger and have possessed a blood based circulatory system while alive. The DM’s has discretion on what corpses qualify to feed the weapon’s hunger as some that have died due to fire or bleeding damage or who have been caught in explosions of power, may be too charred, mangled or lack enough blood for the weapon’s liking.
Panache: A flamboyant weapon with a long sleek form and an ornate hilt. The weapon has been empowered to augment the bearer’s natural grace and allows even a clumsy oaf to wield the weapon with a certain panache that resembles a gymnastic performance. In combat, a naturally captivating wielder’s movement’s become outright distracting and the wielder is able to strike and step away from the fascinated enemy before the creature can even consider repaying the favor. On the wielder’s turn if he successfully attacks a target with a lower charisma score than himself, that specific creature can’t make opportunity attacks against the wielder for the rest of the turn. —Note: Recommended for melee weapons only.
Mindstrike: The grip of the weapon is formed not of wood, leather or metal but rather of corded brain tissue that has been wrapped around the handle. The grip feels damp and squishy beneath the wielders grip as if the grey matter was still fresh. A knowledgeable PC will be able to determine that the brain tissues come from a number of different creatures who all had psionic, telepathic, telekinetic or other powerful mental abilities. Bearers who hold the weapon for long periods of time or attack with it, experience fleeting mental flashbacks of lives they never lived, as the memories locked away in the preserved brains leak into the wielder. The weapon’s psionic power attacks its victim’s very psyche, mutilating their mind, exterminating their ego and brutalizing their brain. On a successful attack with the weapon, the wielder can choose to have all of the damage dealt be considered psychic damage rather than the weapon's normal damage type. Projectile ranged weapons will enhance their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Drunkard: The symbol of a mostly finished bottle of whiskey is etched on the grip of the weapon. A creature who grasps the weapon experiences blurred vision, feels slightly dizzy has slurred speech and is filled with unearned courage. This pseudo alcoholic buzz is mild and actually seems to sober up a creature who is unreasonably drunk. An intoxicated bearer who is experiencing disadvantage on attack rolls, saving throws or ability checks, suffers no penalties from being intoxicated as long as they are actively wielding the weapon. Furthermore if the wielder would be suffering disadvantage on rolls due to his intoxicated state (But is not because he is benefiting from the enchantment), the weapon functions as a +1.
Earthbreaking: The symbol of a mountain that’s been cracked in half is etched into the grip of the weapon. The weapon is infused with earth shattering power and the wielder can feel the destructive potential flowing through his body. As an action equivalent to making an attack, the wielder can swing the weapon with all their might at a patch of ground within their reach. The weapon’s reverberations shake the dirty, stone or wood floor creating cracks, small fissures and uneven patches of ground an area of five square feet. The area becomes difficult terrain and creatures must use twice as much movement in order to move in or out of the five foot square. Abnormally powerful attacks also trigger this effect and whenever the wielder scores a critical hit with the weapon, a five foot square of ground under the struck creature becomes difficult terrain. —Note: Recommended for melee weapons.
Runic: The weapon is covered in arcane runes that glow and pulse slightly when held by a creature capable of casting spells. A bearer can choose to siphon magical energy into the weapon which fuels the runes latent potential, causing it to hum with violent power. The bearer can take an action equivalent to making an attack to channel a finite magical resource (Such as a level 1 spell slot, mana points or an encounter power) into the weapon. While empowered in this way, the runes flare with eldritch light and the weapon is treated as a +1 for the next ten minutes regardless of who holds it.
Warmage: The weapon is adorned with arcane runes, druidic glyphs, eldritch marks, sorcerous emblems and holy symbols to various Gods of magic. The combination of the various patterns and designs allow the weapon to be used as a material focus for casting magical spells of any sort. In addition, as long as the caster is wielding the weapon in one or both hands, he can wave it around to replicate the physical movements of casting, allowing him to perform the somatic components of the spell as if his hands were free.
Hidden Light: The weapon looks absolutely mundane for its type and has no markings, identification or hint as to its true power. The object contains a divine spark that subtly guides its bearer towards a path of righteousness, bravery and self-sacrifice. The holy weapon doesn’t wish to be sought after for its power for those who simply wish to use it for battle and it is not detectable as a magical weapon when carried by a noble creature. The divine essence provides the bearer the courage to stand firm in the face of adversity and the first time per day the wielder attempts to resist a fear type spell or effect, he gains advantage on the roll. In combat a wielder may flare the holy spark to harm the foe and after confirming a hit but before rolling damage, the wielder may choose to convert all of the damage dealt by this weapon to radiant damage. When this occurs, there is no outward flash of magic, divine light or sense of holy power, which makes it a favored enchantment of traveling priests wishing to lay low, humble paladins and inconspicuous clerics in the fight against evil. To benefit from these magical effects, the bearer must be a good aligned creature and have used the weapon as a focus of prayer, meditation or self-reflection on how they can help others, for at least one uninterrupted hour in the past day. —Note: Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Bowblade: The symbol of a Random Melee Weapon (See Note) is etched into the grip of this Random Projectile Ranged Weapon. This enchantment was tailor made for adventurers who wish to travel light while still retaining access to an assortment of armaments. The weapon is imbued with transmutation magic and once per round on his turn, the wielder can concentrate for a fraction of a moment (Taking an action equivalent to drawing a weapon), he may cause the weapon to instantaneously change from its current form to the type of weapon etched onto the grip or back again. Any observer can clearly tell that both of the weapon’s forms are of exceptional workmanship and that a great deal of time and skill went into their creation. Both weapons gain a single Random Masterwork Bonus (Either the same for each or two different benefits, DM’s discretion). —Note: I recommend choosing two weapons that deal different types of damage to increase the wielder’s variety of attack options.
Ghost Touched: A weapon with this quality seems insubstantial and mists slightly as if it was incredibly cold. The weapon can be wielded by a missing limb and when used in this fashion, the wielder is always considered proficient with it. The weapon appears to float and swing in midair, however perceptive characters might notice spectral wisps of the missing limb. The weapon is treated as a +1 when wielded by a missing limb. —Note: Not recommended for ammunition or thrown weapons.
Lucky: The symbol of a horseshoe encircling a four-leaf clover is etched on the grip and a small rabbit’s foot charm hangs from a short silver chain, unobtrusively attached to the base of the grip. A creature who handles the weapon for more than a few moments gets a hunch that it is somehow lucky and would bring them good fortune to use in combat. It is common for long term bearer’s to become quite superstitious and develop or practice small rituals (Such as throwing spilled salt over your left shoulder, saying “Bless you.” when someone sneezes or never washing your socks.) to attract good luck or ward off bad luck. The bearer is not compelled to do this but does receive small gut instincts originating from the weapon if the ritual was done satisfactory or not. The first time per day that the wielder critically fails an attack roll with the weapon (See Note) they must roll again and take the new result. This effect cannot be suppressed, delayed or saved for later. The weapon must have been in the bearer’s possession for at least 24 hours before the wielder can benefit from the effect. —Note: The DM can expand this to also include other combat rolls that are not attacks such as attempting to shove, trip or disarm a target as long as the weapon was used at least in part to do so. Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Blood Called: This weapon is covered in bloodstains that can never be washed clean with water, solvent or magic. Once attuned, the weapon always has a few drops of fresh blood somewhere on its surface which reappear if wiped away. A creature can attune this weapon to themselves during a one hour ritual that bathes the weapon in the creature’s own blood causing three hit points of damage per character level (Or 30% of maximum health or other equivalent amount). Afterwards, they are able to instantly summon the weapon to their hand with a thought, by sacrificing one hit point per character level (Or 10% of maximum health or other equivalent amount. This sacrifice is simply hit point damage not a permanent loss but cannot be prevented by any means), as long as the creature and the weapon are one the same plane of existence. The magic involved in the ritual binds the creature together with the weapon and the fresh blood that beads on the object’s surface is actually that of the attuned creature. This arcane ritual allows the weapon to bypass certain magical barriers that oppose teleportation as the enchantment tricks the barrier into thinking that the weapon and the attuned creature are physically attached. The anti-teleportation field therefore believes that the weapon is simply moving incredibly fast over long distances but not actually “teleporting�� and therefore will allow the weapon to be called in or out of it. Attuning the weapon to a new user breaks the previous owner’s connection. Due to the nature of these weapons they are not often stolen and typically the previous owner is already died. Note: For ammunition it is suggested that the one hour ritual can effect up to ten units of the same type of ammunition and that the user can sacrifice a single hit point in order to summon a single unit. If a DM finds the anti-teleport bypassing power too powerful, consider having it cost twice as much hit points (2 per level or 20% of max health) to call the weapon in or out of such a field.
Deceptive: A weapon decorated with bright colors and bold patterns defined by thick black lines. The conspicuous weapon becomes invisible whenever it’s actively being wielded or held in at least one hand. The bearer does not gain the ability to see the weapon but as they are physically grasping it they suffer no penalty to using it in combat. The wielder gains advantage to checks made to feint with the weapon (Or the target gains disadvantage whichever benefits the wielder more) and on any checks made to disguise the fact that they are wielding or holding the weapon. The first time the weapon is used in a combat encounter, the wielder gains advantage on the attack roll as the target has trouble avoiding or blocking an unknown, invisible weapon. The invisibility does not extend to anything other than the weapon itself and shed blood will appear to float and move in midair as the wielder fights. —Note: Not recommended for ammunition or throwing weapons.
Daywalker: The symbol of a blazing sun is etched on the grip of the weapon. The bearer can feel the power and heat of the sun tingle over their entire body like a warm embrace. The weapon is treated as a +1 in direct sunlight and the wielder can see look directly into the brightness of the sun without suffering any sort of discomfort or damage whatsoever. —Note: Direct sunlight can include shady areas such as under a forest canopy but not areas primarily lit but non sunlight such as most indoor settings.
Venerable: The symbol of an hourglass with most of the sand in the bottom half is etched into the weapon’s grip. A creature holding the weapon feels old, and the burdens of all the responsibilities, regrets and consequences in the bearer’s life weighs heavy on their mind. The weapon is treated as a +1 if the wielder is the oldest intelligent creature within 100 feet.
Bonded Skill: The symbol of a hand holding this weapon is etched into the weapon’s grip. The lines of the symbol where the hand and the weapon meet are blurred, making it hard to distinguish them as separate entities. The bearer understands that although the weapon is lethal in it’s own right, it’s true power can only be obtained by physically bonding with it. On the wielder’s turn he may activate the weapon’s magic, causing the grip to animate and wrap itself around the wielder’s fist and burrowing into the skin of his hand, creating an unnatural union of weapon and flesh. This process takes an action equivalent to making an attack or casting a spell. The wielder feels an unpleasant amount of pressure but no actual pain and takes no damage as the material penetrates the skin, forcing it to remain grasped to the handle. Afterwards, the weapon feels as if it was a natural extension of the wielder’s arm than a held object and he becomes proficient with it’s use if he was not already. While attached to the wielder’s hand, the weapon cannot be released or disarmed and the wielder cannot use that hand for tasks requiring any sort of manual dexterity as the hand is considered actively wielding the weapon at all times. To sever the bond to the weapon the wielder can spend one minute cutting and prying away the fused areas, suffering one hit point of damage per character level (Or 10% of maximum his health or other equivalent amount), or he can take an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell and use a free hand to rip it off by force, dealing twice that amount of damage to himself due to the sheer amount of lost skin and tissue. —Note: For two handed weapons, the weapon only bonds to a single hand (Wielder’s choice) leaving the other one free to interact with other objects, however the wielder must still use both hands to make attacks with it as normal. This allows the wielder to hold a bonded crossbow in one hand while the other retrieves a potion, makes a rude gesture or loads said crossbow. Not recommended for ammunition or thrown weapons.
Skybane: The symbol of an arrow impaling a bird in flight is etched into the weapon’s grip. The bearer feels a deep seeded jealously directed at those who are able to slip the bonds of earth and take to the skies. The weapon is treated as a +1 against targets that are not currently making contact with the ground (Such as flying, hovering or floating) or standing on a solid substance (See Note). The wielder must be making contact with the ground themselves to activate this ability and a creature capable of natural flight is never considered proficient with the weapon. —Note: Recommended for ranged weapons and ammunition. Targets who are swimming, climbing or suspended from webs, strings or wires are not considered flying and DM’s should enforce common sense based on the spirit of the enchantment.
Pestilence: The weapon is tinted a sickly white and has the symbol of a horse and a pair of balancing scales etched into the grip. The weapon contains a myriad of magically preserved plagues, bacteria and viruses that remain in a state of near perfect magical stasis. Targets struck by the weapon are exposed to these short lived but fast acting phages that run rampant through their person. Due to minor flaws with the stasis enchantment, the bearer feels mildly ill the majority of the time, experiencing (Or believe they are experiencing) a wide a variety of symptoms including but not limited to; fever, chills, nausea, heartburn, headache, frequent urination, diarrhea, sore throat, coughing, sneezing, dry mouth and skin rashes, all with the frequency of a paranoid hypochondriac. None of these medical complications actually impair the bearer’s ability to carry on with their activities or ever impose disadvantage on their tasks. A living creature struck by the weapon is stricken with a short-lived, fast acting plague that throws the target’s immune system into chaos and disorder, making it impossible for the victim to be healed properly. Whenever the wielder successfully attacks a living creature, that target cannot regain hit points until the start of the wielder's next turn.
Corrosion: The weapon is fashioned from significantly damaged materials and the symbol of a partially dissolved hand is acid etched into the grip. Any metallic parts of the weapon are pitted, corroded and covered in rust and wooden components are stained, acid burned and generally discolored. The object is rough and sharp to the touch, leaving the wielder’s hands rust stained and blemished as if exposed to a weak acid. Sizable pieces of rust occasionally flake off of the weapon, disintegrating when they hit the ground but the object never seems to reduce in size or weight no matter how much is lost. The weapon’s acidic properties dissolve the target’s flesh, leaving caustic, chemically burned corpses that reek of acerbic solvents. On a successful attack, the wielder can choose to have all of the damage dealt be considered acid damage rather than the weapon's normal damage type. Projectile ranged weapons will contaminate their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Barely Intelligent: The symbol of a brain is etched on the grip of this weapon. The weapon has been instilled with a small amount of intelligence, perception and memory, but no emotional qualities, wants, desires, loyalties or personality. The wielder faintly perceives the weapon’s simple mind at the edge of their consciousness as if through the means of a psionic ability and is able to communicate telepathically with it. The weapon is able to perceive its environment in the same way a human can (Sight, smell, sound etc.) to a maximum of a five foot radius around itself. The weapon can answer simple fact based, or yes/no questions about its origin, history, past wielders, targets it struck, etc. The weapon does not lie but is not able to answer complex questions or those that depend on feelings, extensive logical deductions or situations it has never witnessed. The weapon could example say that its last wielder killed 114 unarmed children, but could not say whether that wielder was a good or evil person. It could however describe its last wielder in extensive physical detail and confirm or deny things that it observed while being carried by that creature.
Agility: The image of a king cobra and a mongoose fighting to the death is etched on the grip of the weapon. A creature fells nimble and graceful the moment they pick the weapon and the bearer’s normal walking gait becomes smooth catlike strides. The wielder seems to glide and sweep airily through any situation with even savage weapons strikes becoming as elegant as a ballerina’s steps. In combat, a deft wielder is able to dodge and weave as part of an attack in order to better position himself. Whenever the wielder successfully attacks a target with a lower dexterity score than himself, he may choose to move five feet in any direction as long as he remains within the target’s reach. This movement does not count against his total moment for the turn nor does it provoke attacks of opportunity. Should the target be knocked unconscious or die as a result of the attack, the wielder can move five feet in any direction he chooses. —Note: Recommended only for melee weapons, especially those that use dexterity to determine accuracy and damage.  
Probability: The symbol of a pair of dice is etched on the grip of this weapon. A creature wielding the weapon experiences an odd sensation as if a set of dice were tumbling around in his head. The dice roll constantly, as if waiting for the right moment and only stop for a moment when the wielder attacks with the weapon. An insightful wielder understands that gambling and combat are one and the same and that every time battle commences it is time to toss the dice. The weapon’s magic rewards a wielder who gambles with his coin as much as his life and provides a bit of consistency in battle. Whenever the wielder attacks, he rolls 2d10’s to hit with the weapon rather than the typical 1d20. The roll is considered a natural 1 or a critical fumble if both dice roll 1’s, and a natural 20 or a critical hit when both dice roll 10’s.  If the wielder is proficient in any type of gaming or gambling set (Such as dice, cards or a game of skill), the weapon is treated as a +1.  
Covert: An unassuming weapon decorated with pale colors and faint patterns that is normally invisible, only becoming visible when it is actively being wielded or held in at least one hand. The wielder gains advantage on any checks made to disguise the fact that they are carrying the weapon as long as they aren’t holding it in hand. The invisibility does not extend to anything other than the weapon itself and will not render a sheath invisible. Owners will sometimes tie a brightly colored ribbon around the grip of the weapon in order to easily retrieve it if disarmed or if it’s not kept in a sheath but a floating ribbon can draw attention to its invisibility. The weapon is protected by minor shielding wards and when carried by a living creature it does not give off a magical aura and is not detectable as a magical object.
Life Draining: The weapon has a single vampire tooth mostly embedded into its grip, with the tip sticking out. To attune to the weapon, the wielder must have pricked a finger with the tip of the fang and consumed the resulting drop of blood in the past 24 hours. This causes vampiric energy to pulse through the wielder’s bloodstream, allowing him the ability to steal life from others but poisoning his body’s ability to heal on its own. During this time the wielder’s skin becomes pale and bloodless like that of a corpse. When an attuned wielder attacks and damages a living creature, the wielder is healed two hit points per character level to a maximum of the total damage dealt by the attack (See Note), as the attack leeches the vitality straight from the victim’s blood. When this occurs, a burst of bright crimson mist appears from the wound and quickly travels up the weapon and into the wielder leaving a red wispy trail that fades after a moment. On ranged weapons, the mist bursts form the target and follows the ammunition’s path back to the wielder. This unnatural boon is not without cost though as the entire time a bearer is attuned, whenever he would regain hit points from any source other than the weapon, he is only healed for half (Rounded down, minimum zero) of the actual amount. Attunement to the weapon can be renewed at any time (And can be attuned to multiple creatures at once) and wears off naturally after 24 hours when the bearer’s system clears itself of the vampire venom. The attunement can also be broken with any spell or ability that is able to break or dispel curses. —Note: Not recommended for ammunition or thrown weapons. A combat example: A 10th level wielder who attacks a peasant who has 5 remaining hit points and deals 12 damage. The wielder is healed 5 hit points but could have regained as much as 24 hit points if the target had 24 hit points remaining.
Giant Slaying: The image of a young boy wielding a sling in single combat against a goliath of a man wielding a javelin is etched into the grip of the weapon. The bearer’s natural fears of fighting enemies larger than himself is dampened while the weapon is in hand and the wielder feels as though the fight has been made fair. Rather than bravado, this feeling shows itself more as a calm acceptance or faith in himself and his abilities. The weapon is treated as a +1 if the wielder is attacking a creature at least one size category larger than himself. —Note: If your system doesn’t use size categories, treat the weapon as a +1 if the target is at least twice as tall as the wielder.
One Power: A circle made up of black and white swirls, each containing a spot of the other is emblazoned on the grip of the weapon. Only creatures capable of casting magical spells are able to feel the power that this weapon contains, which seems to resonate with an inner spark at the core of their being. Strangely enough this resonance feels drastically different to men and women. Female spellcasters experience a gentle, but infinitely powerful river of force that can be directed to do as they wish but requires patience and confidence to embrace it so that is can be channeled. Male spellcasters encounter a raging torrent of dangerous power that must be subdued and dominated by a strong-willled wielder, before being able to channel the magic of the weapon themselves. In either case, the weapon functions as a +1 while wielded by a creature capable of casting magical spells.
Pridebane: The image of the sharp tip of a quill pen cutting a sword in half, is etched on the grip of the weapon. After a few hours on his person, the bearer seems to find that his mental acuities such as memory recollection, critical thinking and deductive reasoning skills have all become better and that his mind is clearer and more focused. The bearer feels smarter than he was before as if influenced on some kind of mental stimulant and gains a feeling of intellectual superiority over his allies, peers and especially enemies against whom he has a greater urge to challenge himself. In reality the weapon is only imparting the artificial feeling of mental clarity and a keen mind and provides no actual boost to intelligence. The weapon is treated as a +1 when wielded by an intelligent creature. Whenever the wielder makes a successful attack against a target with a higher intelligence score than himself, the weapon deals one hit point of psychic damage per character level (Or 10% of maximum health or other equivalent amount) to the wielder. Knowledgeable PC’s will determine that this enchantment seems to be some sort of strange moral lesson about how the true victor of combat is measured by wits rather than brawn. —Note: Not recommended for ranged weapons or ammunition.
Paranoia: The suspicious looking symbols of dozens of various pairs of eyes are etched into the grip of this weapon. The wielder feels a mild, but constant irrational sensation that someone is out to get them and that they must remain vigilant and untrusting at all times. While discomforting, this delusion is easily dismissed by the wielder. Twice per day, when the wielder lands a successful attack against an enemy he can choose to cause that creature to experiences a greatly magnified form of the unreasonable fear in the form of full blown paranoia in regards to everything that’s not themselves until the start of the wielder’s next turn. The creature will instinctively defend themselves from all potential sources of danger, especially magical ones. A creature struck by the weapon will not willingly allow themselves to be the target of any spells (See Note) and must attempt to resist all spells cast upon them. During this time all creatures suffer disadvantage on all checks made to pacify or calm the target and the target refuses any and all benefits, inspiration, flanking bonuses or other similar help from its allies. —Note: A victim will resist harmless or even beneficial spells made by their allies. For beneficial spells that do not have a built in save, the DM should decide if a DC should be created, if the spell cannot be resisted or if the spell simply fails. The target will not willingly be the target of a touch ranged spell and the caster must treat the target as an enemy for the purposes of landing a successful touch ranged spell.
Sparks: The weapon is heavily accented with electrically conductive materials and the symbol of a lightning bolt is prominently displayed on the copper wire grip. The weapon flickers with jolts of power (Never harmful or distracting to the bearer) and discharges small static shocks on a regular basis and when held this property extends to the bearer as well, causing their hair to stand on end and small arcs of electricity to jump between fingers and strands of hair. When actively being used in combat, the electricity charges and discharges faster as the weapon audible crackles and violently sparks. The weapon’s conductive nature directs lethal jolts of power directly into the target’s body, shocking the delicate nervous system and leaving smoking, flash burned skin. On a successful attack, the wielder can choose to have all of the damage dealt be considered lighting damage rather than the weapon's normal damage type. Projectile ranged weapons will charge their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
War: The weapon is tinted red and the symbol of a horse and a greatsword is etched onto its grip. The bearer feels the faint but constant urge to slay living creatures and take peace from the earth. The weapon rewards those who prove their worth over others in battle and if the weapon is used to land the killing blow on an intelligent creature in armed combat (See Note) the weapon glows slightly and functions as a +1 for the next eight hours for that wielder only. The eight hour timer is reset each time the wielder meets the enchantment’s requirements. —Note: The DM has some discretion on this but typically armed combat means that the fight is reasonable fair and that the target is conscious, able to fight, armed with a weapon and aware that they are fighting the wielder. Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Time: The weapon is aged and weathered, bearing the symbol of an hourglass etched into its grip. The bearer feels older than his years and is particularly affected by the passage of time, aging twice as quickly when the weapon is on his person. A creature injured by the weapon instantly ages by a week for each point of damage dealt by the weapon. Both the bearer’s and target’s hair grow at normal rates for the increased time, which can cause fights lasting a minute to cause the target to appear as though they haven’t groomed in months. Knowledgeable PC’s will know that some creatures such as young reckless dragons purposely injure themselves with weapons like these in order to quickly grow into their prime and defeat their enemies. Desperate enough humans sometimes even attack themselves to grow out hair quickly for reasons of vanity or a quick disguise, as it also grows out facial hair. —Note: Although this enchantment should not have an impact on the duration of beneficial spells on the target or how long it’s been since they’ve last eaten, an intelligent PC or a lenient DM can find uses for it. Such as attacking summoned undead that only “live” for a day, aging them to a time where they crumble to dust or attacking monstrous insects, swarms, biologically unstable mutants, aberrations or other creatures that have lifespans in the weeks to months range.
Teamwork, Reacting: The symbol of the complementing paired weapon (See Note) is etched on the grip of both weapons. Each weapon comes with a paired other half that allows the wielders of both weapons to instantly react as a team against common enemies. Both weapons have impressive, ergonomic designs that allows them to be effortlessly drawn forth by their wielders. Even the sheaths, straps or carry clips have undergone modifications so that the wielders can easily make adjustments to stow it in wherever is most comfortable for them while still being instantly accessible by either hand. The bearers are able to draw their weapons as free actions whenever they roll initiative as long as they physically capable of doing so. The weapons are so naturally drawn forth that the wielders are even able to impulsively (If crudely) defend themselves in the heat of the moment and in the first round of combat if a hostile creature comes within the wielder’s reach (Or 20 feet for a ranged weapon) he is able to make an attack of opportunity against that creature but suffers disadvantage on the attack roll. The true power of the weapons however lies in the mental link between the wielders that allow them to react as a team. When initiative is rolled if the bearers are within 30 feet of each other and both draw the enchanted weapons, the wielder who rolled lower on the initiative check is able to act on the turn immediately after the wielder with the higher check. On subsequent rounds, as long as the two bearers continue to wield the enchanted weapons and remain within 30 feet of each other the wielder with the lower initiative roll may act immediately after his partner, otherwise he must use his original roll. To benefit from the weapons bonuses, both bearers must have spent at least one hour within ten feet of each other at the same time, fitting their sheaths and carry straps and mentally attuning to one another. Once comfortable and mentally connected, the bearers only have to repeat the process if the weapons are to be worn by someone else. —Note: Roll a pair of identical weapons or choose a pair that complement each other. If more than two Teamwork, Reacting weapons are within 30 ft of each other all wielders may work together so long as they all meet the requirements. The DM may choose to have these weapons found together or on enemies who are working together or in another area of the building or dungeon. It’s not uncommon to find enchantments like this on weapons belonging to city guards, military units, or other teams who are trained to fight together with specific strategies. Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Invisible: A weapon with this enchantment is completely invisible at all times. To creatures capable of seeing invisible objects, the weapon is boringly simple (Bordering on crude) looking, without a single unnecessary ornamentation. The wielder does not gain the ability to see the weapon but as they are physically grasping it they suffer no penalty to using it in combat. The wielder gains advantage to checks made to feint with the weapon (Or the target gains disadvantage whichever benefits the wielder more) and on any checks made to disguise the fact that they are carrying or wielding the weapon. The first time the weapon is used in a combat encounter, the wielder gains advantage on the attack roll as the target has trouble avoiding or blocking an unknown, invisible weapon. The invisibility does not extend to anything other than the weapon itself and will not render a sheath invisible and shed blood will appear to float and move in midair as the wielder fights. Owners will typically tie a brightly colored ribbon around the grip of the weapon in order to easily retrieve it if disarmed or if it’s not kept in a sheath but a floating ribbon can draw attention to its invisibility.
Secret Darkness: The weapon looks absolutely mundane for its type and has no markings, identification or hint as to its true power. The object contains a demonic spark that subtly guides its bearer towards a path of ruthlessness, selfishness and self-interest. The unholy weapon doesn’t wish to be openly fought over for its power, as it wishes to remain an invisible hand aiding the wicked and it is not detectable as a magical weapon when carried by a nefarious creature. The malevolent essence provides the bearer the arrogance to maintain a strong mind and think of his own self-interests at every opportunity and the first time per day the wielder attempts to resist a charm or mind control type effect or spell, he gains advantage on the roll. In combat a wielder may flare the profane spark to harm the foe and after confirming a hit but before rolling damage, the wielder may choose to convert all of the damage dealt by this weapon to necrotic damage. When this occurs, there is no outward flash of magic, demonic light or sense of unholy power, which makes it a favored enchantment of secretive cultists, covert practitioners of the dark arts and clandestine worshipers of evil. To benefit from these magical effects, the bearer must be an evil aligned creature and have used the weapon as a focus of dark worship, meditation or the planning of acts of self-serving greed, for at least one uninterrupted hour in the past day. —Note: Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Maiden: No matter its circumstances, the weapon remains free of scratches, nicks, sweat, blood and gore, remaining untouched as if saving itself. The weapon instills feelings of purity, patience and self-control when held. The weapon glows slightly and is treated as +1 when wielded by a virgin creature. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that this simpler charm requires comparatively little time, skill and material components and is sometimes used by orders of vestal virgins or celibate priestly orders who find it more efficient to create multiple weapons with this enchantment than a single +1 weapon. —Note: Themes regarding sexuality may not be appropriate for all groups and DM’s should use their discretion on if this enchantment is worth adding into their campaign or if it would be too distracting, immersion breaking or uncomfortable.
Solid Shadow: The weapon appears to be made of wispy strands of shadow, woven together into a solid form. The wielder of the weapon can choose to sheath it in their own shadow, magically sequestering it. While sheathed in this fashion, the weapon effectively ceases to exist, although the bearer still feels its weight evenly distributed about their entire body. The bearer can retrieve the weapon by reaching into their own shadow and pulling it out, taking the same action as normally drawing a weapon. Unfortunately if their shadow is not visible (Such as in complete darkness) the weapon is irretrievable. If the bearer dies while the weapon is sheathed, it will reform in the nearest shadow to the bearer. —Note: Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Wings: The symbol of a raven in flight is etched into the weapon’s grip. The bearer feels lighter than normal and may feel a restless urge to take to the skies and be free. Once per week, the bearer may hold the weapon in one hand and speak the command word while concentrating on a specific location (No more than 50 miles away), which he must have visited, and a recipient who matches a general description, such as “a man or woman dressed in the uniform of the town guard” or “a red-haired dwarf wearing a pointed hat.” The bearer can then think of a message of up to 25 words in length and the weapon transmutes into a lifelike raven. The magical bird will then fly for up to 24 hours towards the specified location, covering about 50 miles during that time. When the raven arrives, it delivers the message to the creature that the bearer described, replicating the sound of the bearer’s voice. The bird speaks only to a creature matching the description the bearer gave. After delivering the message, running out of time or destroyed en route, the raven will revert back to its weapon form. Furthermore, the weapon gains one Random Masterwork Bonus. —Note: Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Bumbling: The emblem of a fairy circle is gilded in silver on the weapon’s grip. The entire weapon is a masterpiece of flowing graceful design, delicately ornate scrollwork and is a tribute to those who made it. Running along its length is a poem written in iambic pentameter, penned in Sylvan, the language of the fey. Those who are able to read it, discover it is not much more than a limerick disparaging the mortal humans and extolling the virtues of the fair folk. The verses have particularly harsh words to say about the incompetence and clumsiness of humanoids and how that in contrast, the fairy peoples are naturally adept in all ways. Any non-fey creature who wields the weapon finds that they are slightly less proficient than usual at completing their normal everyday task, as if the poem was a warning rather than boast. The weapon is treated as a +1 but while the weapon is being wielded and for one hour afterwards, a non-fey bearer suffers a penalty of -1 on all of his skill checks.
Knots: The material of the weapon is twisted and patterned making it look like a braided rope. On the bearer’s turn he may use an action equivalent to making an attack or casting a spell to cause the weapon to become a 50 foot length of silk rope or to turn the rope back into the weapon. The rope is not magically strengthened and any damage or wear to it will carry over to the weapon when it’s shifted back. Furthermore, the weapon gains one Random Masterwork Bonus. —Note: Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Skystrike: The symbol of a diving falcon about to strike its prey is etched on the weapon’s grip. The wielder feels lighter than normal and the wielder is filled with a lofty sense of power and scorn for the pitiful creatures that are forced to walk along the filthy ground like ants in the dirt. As long as the wielder is flying, hovering or floating the weapon is treated as a +1 against targets who are making contact with the ground or standing on a solid substance (See Note). —Note: Recommended for reach weapons, ranged weapons and ammunition. Targets who are swimming, climbing or suspended from webs, strings or wires are not considered flying and DM’s should enforce common sense based on the spirit of the enchantment.
Famine: The weapon is tinted black and has the symbol of a horse and a pair of balancing scales etched into the grip. The weapon is half as light as it should be and thinner that it has any right to be although this doesn’t compromise its integrity at all. A creature grasping the object has feel a desperate, unending, hunger from within the weapon. A pain that can be fed but can never be truly sated. After 24 hours in the bearer’s possession, his face becomes drawn and emaciated and he must consume twice the normal amount of food and water in order to not suffer exhaustion penalties. When a creature is hit by this weapon it siphons off their energy and physical reserves and the target’s body reacts as if they had gone and additional 1d4+1 hours without food or water. This effect is cumulative with itself and can cause fights lasting under a minute to end in the enemy starving to death rather than dying of his injuries. —Note: It is up to the DM to determine how exactly an enemy is effected by this. Personally I suggest keeping track of the 1d4+1 hours of delayed food and drink on individual targets and considering the target “exhausted” when he has accumulated 8+ hours and perhaps have the target passing out from hunger and dehydration around the 12+ hours mark. This obviously won’t have much of an effect on many types of creatures as undead, constructs, demons dragons and elementals don’t eat and drink enough to be bothered by the enchantment but can provide a fun and powerful debuff to some large monster and powerful villains. Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Blighting: The weapon’s grip is wrapped in dark purple leather from which a network of thin black veins extend outward. If the weapon is ever stained, nicked, dented or covered in blood or gore, a number of the dark veins slowly shift to that area. They seem to absorb the imperfections, damages and filth into the weapon’s form, like the roots of a plants soaking up water, causing the object to feel the slightest bit heavier and more lethal. When held, the bearer’s mind is filled with dark thoughts of cruelty, senseless violence and causing harm to innocents. The wielder is instilled with the certainty that everything in life or death is theirs to command if they can shrug off their ethical and moral compunctions and reach out and take what they want by force. The weapon’s perverse energies deal unnatural injuries that foul the flesh and stain the soul. On a successful attack, the wielder can choose to have all of the damage dealt be considered necrotic damage rather than the weapon's normal damage type. Projectile ranged weapons will taint their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Moonwalker: The symbol of a crescent moon is etched on the grip of the weapon. The bearer can feel the power within the object and perceptive PC’s will notice the strength of the power fluctuates. It seems to be stronger while the moon is waxing and nearly hums with power during a full moon. It feel weaker during a waning moon as if it was gradually losing strength until it’s power is barely perceivable at all during an empty moon. Regardless of the actual state of the moon, the weapon is treated as a +1 in direct moonlight or starlight and the wielder can see twice as far as normal in moonlight or starlight.
Winged Death: The ornate pieces of ammunition or thrown weapons have a pair of folded feathered wings etched on them. Once launched, the projectile spreads its wings and appears to fly to its victim like a diving bird of prey. The target does not gain any benefit from physical cover as long as the wielder is able to see the target and there is a reasonably straight line of flight that the projectile can follow. A projectile ranged weapon with this enchantment has the symbol of a pair of folded wings etched on the grip and can launch two projectiles per day augmented with this enchantment. —Note: Not recommended for melee weapons.
Dawn: The weapon weighs half as much as normal, shines with the brightness of a candle in the reddish orange light of a new dawn and generally seems to be made of solidified sunlight. A creature struck by the weapon is treated as if they had been exposed to direct sunlight for one round. This can result in temporary blindness or sunlight sensitivity in some creatures and considerable damage to some types of undead. Outside of combat, the weapon can be hung horizontally above a barely dressed creature and be used as a tanning light or to grow small amounts of plants in otherwise dark environments. To retain its enchantment, the weapon must spent at least one non-consecutive hour per week in direct natural sunlight, absorbing the solar energy and storing it within itself. If this requirement is not met, the weapon’s magic begins to fade and it enters a state of hibernation for up to 30 days during which time it does not glow or provide its combat bonus. To be brought out of hibernation the weapon must spent a total of eight consecutive hours in direct natural sunlight at which point it returns to normal functioning. If not brought out of hibernation within the 30 days the magic binding the sunlight into solid matter fades and the weapon evaporates into nothingness.
Sharpening: The weapon’s grip consists of rough rock that martial bearer’s will recognize as a shaped whetstone. At exactly midnight each night, creatures within earshot of this object will hear the sound of the blade being dragged across a whetstone emanating from this weapon as it sharpens itself to a razor’s edge. The blade does this without the need for an actual oilstone or lubricant and afterwards an observer will notice that the weapon slices through flesh easier than a surgeon’s scalpel. The supernatural sharpness wears down quickly however and it only takes a couple of successful hits before the blade’s returns to a respectably but not incredibly honed edge. After the weapon sharpens itself, the first two successful hits it lands are treated as if the damage rolled the maximum amount possible, after which the damage is rolled normally until the blade can sharpen itself again. If the blow is a critical hit, that damage is also maximized, however other sources of extra damage such as a paladin’s smite or a rogue’s sneak attack are not affected. —Note: Recommended solely for melee bladed weapons but a projectile ranged weapon could instantly sharpen the first two arrows it fired per day. A quiver or bracer could sharpen two throwing weapons or ammunition per day. The weapon’s power can be easily adjusted by the number of maximized blows and a DM can increase or decrease the number of said hits as they see fit.
Toxic: The business end of the weapon sports a number of pinprick sized holes and a single inland taipan fang is embedded into the grip. The hypodermic snake fang’s point aims along the length of the weapon and a perceptive PC can actually see bloated drops of neurotoxins resting at the pinprick sized venom channels at the business end. The wielder feels an unpleasant warm tingling sensation in their weapon hand, as if a fraction of the venomous power somehow penetrated their skin. The weapon’s toxins are injected directly into its victim’s flesh, coagulating the blood, paralyzing muscle and necrotizing the once healthy tissue. On a successful attack, the wielder can choose to have all of the damage dealt be considered poison damage rather than the weapon's normal damage type. Projectile ranged weapons will envenom their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Magebane: The symbol of a broken mage’s staff is etched into the grip of the weapon. A mundane bearer feels a great sense of approval and validation flowing into them from the weapon, as if it was silently judging them worthy of their life choices. Along with the feelings of goodwill comes undertones of prejudice and intolerance of certain unnatural beings that defy the natural order of things and who openly cast foul sorceries as if to openly flaunt that they are superior to the common people. When in the presence of mages the bearer will feel mildly uncomfortable and somewhat suspicious of their enchanted words and eldritch goals. If the bearer can cast magical spells, he feels a great sense of animosity and deep seeded resentment directed towards him. The weapon is treated as a +1 against creatures capable of casting magical spells and such spellcasters are never considered proficient with the weapon.  —Note: A DM may rule that innate or racially gained spells or magical abilities do not count towards being a spellcaster for this enchantment’s purpose.
Unlucky: The symbol of a horseshoe encircling a four-leaf clover is etched on the grip and a small rabbit’s foot charm hangs from a short silver chain, unobtrusively attached to the base of the grip. A creature who handles the weapon for more than a few moments wish to wield it for themselves and never parting with it, believing it to be lucky and valuable. This impulse is easily overcome and will not cause creature to act against their nature. The first time per day that the wielder rolls a natural 20 on an attack roll with the weapon (See Note) they must immediately roll again and take the new result. The wielder is not automatically aware that this effect is caused by the weapon and in fact believes that the weapon actually saved him from an even worse fate or run of bad luck. —Note: The DM can expand this to also include other combat rolls that are not attacks such as attempting to shove, trip or disarm a target as long as the weapon was used at least in part to do so. This is considered a cursed item for the purposes of any detection magic or curse breaking powers. Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Panic: The symbol of a wide eyed deer stood attentive but still is etched on the grip of the weapon. A bearer gains a sense of increased awareness from the weapon as if it was enhancing the bearer’s natural perception. Should a bearer attune to the weapon (By concentrating over it for one hour) he gains a greatly improved fight or flight response and is usually able to react to threats the moment they appear. This benefit is not without cost however as due to a design flaw or lack of foresight on the enchanter’s part, the weapon delivers this benefit to the bearer by means of artificially stimulating his natural physiological responses to stress. Thus when combat is first joined, the bearer’s body is flooded with adrenaline, typically shocking him into action but can in some cases completely overwhelming his mind. Once attuned the bearer gains advantage on initiative checks but if the bearer has the lowest (Or tied for lowest) initiative result out of all creatures who rolled, he is overcome with stimulation and freezes in place. At this time the bearer resembles a deer in lamplights and is unable to attack, move, react, provide flanking or even defend himself and spends the entire first round effectively paralyzed in shock. All enemies gain advantage on attacks rolls against the panicking bearer who suffers disadvantage on all saving rolls and ability checks, as his body and mind are too inundated with sensory input to function properly. These effect wears off at the end of the bearer’s first turn after which he is able to act normally. The bearer remains attuned to the weapon until another creature attunes to it or until it has not been in his possession for more than 72 consecutive hours.
Xenophobic: A wildly insulting caricature depicting a Random Creature Type (See Note) is prominently etched on the business end of the weapon. When first carried, a bearer experiences faint ideas of prejudice and intolerance towards certain (The rolled creature type) beings. Over time these emotions will fester and grow into feelings of bitterness, resentment and perceived imaginary slights against the bearer. When in the presence of those creatures the bearer will feel uncomfortable and suspicious of their words, actions and goals. If the bearer is himself a member of that species, he feels a great sense of animosity and unreasonable anger directed towards him from the implement. The weapon is treated as a +1 against the creature type and that species is never considered proficient with the weapon. —Note: A DM can either roll randomly on the Random Creature Type table or chose a specific type or Humanoid Race that would make sense for the campaign. A weapon specifically enchanted to fight a creature type that the DM knows that the PC’s will never encounter is a false hope and useless weapon. On the other hand, like many other “+1 if X” enchantments, the weapon can be sold, traded or donated to NPC’s who will actually use it as part of a side quest or chain of deals scenario.
Frenzy: The image of a charging feral boar with wild eyes and a foaming mouth is etched into the grip of the weapon. In combat the wielder feels the primal energy of unmitigated rage flood through their mind and can choose to throw aside all concern for defense to attack with fierce desperation. When the wielder makes their first attack on his turn he may choose to attack recklessly which gives him advantage on all attacks made with the weapon during this turn but all attack rolls made against him have advantage until the start of the his next turn. —Note: Recommended only for melee weapons, especially two handed ones.
Squashing: The symbol of booted foot crushing a beetle is etched onto the grip of the weapon. The bearer’s instinctual fears of the creeping crawling vermin and small, vicious beasts are dampened while the weapon is in hand and the wielder feels as though he is orders of magnitude stronger than those smaller than himself. While in combat, the wielder tends to puff himself up making himself look larger and more intimidating as he swings the weapon in overhead chops, bringing it down hard on him enemies as if trying to pummel them into the ground. The weapon is treated as a +1 if the wielder is attacking a creature at least one size category smaller than himself. —Note: If your system doesn’t use size categories, treat the weapon as a +1 if the target is half the wielder’s height or smaller.
Tyrant: The symbol of a large closed fist crushing the helpless is etched into the grip of this weapon. The weapon fans the bearer’s ego and sense of personal importance making them feel stronger, smarter and more deserving of power than others. The bearer may seek to prove his overinflated pride through combat, especially when the wielder is already in a strong position of health and readiness. The weapon rewards the strong who use their power as a club over others and the weapon is treated as a +1 if the wielder has more than half of his total hit points remaining. These feelings of personal strength and confidence immediately departs a wielder who is below half of his total hit points as the weapon stops approving of the wielder’s situation.
Resonating: An unassuming weapon that vibrates and emits audible tones at the slightest disturbance. A steel tuning fork is seamlessly incorporated into the weapon’s form typically with the handle and two prongs serving as the weapon’s grip and pommel. When actively being used in combat, the reverberations of the weapon’s swings, successful blows and the wielder’s own pounding heartbeats are magnified and stored by the tuning fork, building up small shock waves of violent thunderous power that are discharged directly into the wielder’s foes. The weapon’s sonic vibrations change match the resonance frequency of its target, causing blows that splinter bone, rupture eardrums and explode hearts. On a successful attack, the wielder can choose to have all of the damage dealt be considered thunder damage rather than the weapon's normal damage type. Projectile ranged weapons will vibrate their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Pious: The image of a straight razor resting over a bowl of steaming water and a towel are etched into the grip of the weapon. A creature holding the weapon experiences the feeling that they are being secretly watched and silently judged. A perceptive or spiritual creature can ascertain that the object is home to a number of spirits that govern the weapon’s use. A bearer may spend ten minutes paying honor to the spirits by humbling themselves and completely shaving their head and face in tribute. Once the ceremony is finished the spirits grant their blessing and the weapon is treated as a +1 for the next eight hours for that bearer only. The bearer must wait ten days until they have long enough hair to re-enact the ritual to the spirits satisfaction. —Note: Not recommended for ammunition or thrown weapons.  
Nourishing: The image of a rustic kitchen with strong themes of hearth and home are etched into the grip of the weapon. The bearer is deeply comforted by the weapon despite the violence associated with its murderous use. When grasped and concentrated on in calm situations, the object shows the wielder his own childhood memories that are always of good times, fond events, or joyful occasions. Once per day, the bearer may lay this weapon beside a bowl of water. After a moment, the bowl of water will begin to boil and after a minute it will transform into a hot meal of special significance to the bearer, such as their mother’s noodle soup or father’s elk stew. Eating this delicious meal over the course of at least one minute is so satisfying that it counts as nourishment for a full meal and restores hit points equal to a dagger’s damage plus one (1d4+1). To everyone other than the bearer, the bowl and its contents appears unchanged. The special qualities of the enchanted water dissipate if it is not consumed within one hour.
Saving Grace: The symbol of a musical note is etched into the grip of the weapon. The bearer can occasionally hear faint tinkling noises, musical notes and melodic tones originating from the weapon. The barely audible noises are never familiar, seemingly always a fragment of some wholly unique song. It is only when the veil between life and death is thin that the symphony can truly be heard. When the wielder is at zero hit points or less, he begins to hear the most beautiful music he has ever heard. The wielder has advantage on death saving throws and cannot recall any details about the music if they wake. —Note: A creature is considered a wielder for five rounds after they let go of the weapon just in case they release it upon losing consciousness. Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Sacrificing: The image of a creature gripping a sword by the blade in order to kill its enemy is etched on the grip of the weapon. The weapon imparts the importance of the bottom line to its bearer. That no matter how honorable he is in combat or how noble his intentions are, the true goal is to kill the enemy before he kills you. To that end, the implement allows the wielder a way to channel a fraction of his life essence through the weapon which magnifies it to damage the target. A dead enemy is no longer a threat and the health sacrificed is often less than being struck by a simple dagger, making it a good trade. After successfully attacking the target but before rolling damage, the wielder may choose to sacrifice up to one hit point per character level (Or 10% of maximum health or other equivalent amount) in order to deal additional damage to the target, equal to twice the amount sacrificed. This damage is considered the same type as the weapon’s attack and is added together with the rolled damage. The sacrificed hit points cannot be reduced in any way but the health can be regained as normal.
Last Words: The image of a mortally wounded soldier whispering into a medic’s ear is etched into the grip of the weapon. While held, the bearer is reminded of their own mortality and that he could die at any time but is strangely comforted that even in the event of the worst, they will still be able to make his final goodbyes to any remaining allies. The weapon can contain up to one charge of necromantic spell allowing the bearer to speak with the dead. If the weapon has a charge, the wielder can expend it to speak with one corpse with ten feet of himself, granting the semblance of life and intelligence to it and allowing it to speak and answer questions. The corpse knows only what it knew in life, including the languages it knew and is under no compulsion to offer truthful answers to creatures who it recognizes as an enemy.  The spell animates the body for ten minutes allowing the being to pass on any last words to loved ones, a will and testament or give final instructions about how to care for his corpse. The only way for the weapon to be recharged is if it is carried by a living humanoid bearer at the moment of his death. —Note: In game systems where there is a Speak With Dead spell, just use that instead of the way the spell is described here. Not recommended for ammunition or thrown weapons.
Raider: The symbol of a mounted knight is etched on the grip of the weapon. The bearer feels mildly uncomfortable and far too slow when walking on their own two feet and would far prefer to be riding a beast of any variety. While riding, the bearer feels as though his beast is an extension of his own body and that the bond between them makes them stronger than the sum of their parts. While riding a mount the weapon is treated as a +1 and the wielder does not suffer any penalties for wielding the weapon specifically while mounted.
Peasant: The crossed symbol of a hammer and sickle is etched on the grip of the weapon. The weapon imparts the bearer with feelings of humility, modesty and solidarity for those simple folk who spend their entire lives performing hard labor for simple rewards. The bearer understands that this weapon was made to be taken up in times of great desperation by the brave salt of the earth people who will put their lives on the line to protect what little they have. The weapon is treated as a +1 if the bearer has not held or carried a different magical item (That is not this weapon) for longer than ten minutes in the past 48 hours and has not used, activated or wielded a different magical item in the past 48 hours.
Babel: The symbol of a high tower is etched into the grip of this weapon. A creature holding this weapon feels the ancient power flowing within it, but seems to understand that the power it possesses comes at a cost. A knowledgeable PC will be able to determine that the specific enchantment used to power this weapon is that of a long forgotten civilization that grew too proud and attempted to build a tower high enough to reach the heavens. The Gods became wrathful at the audacity of the nation and cursed them never to understand one another and scattered them among the plane never to unify properly again. The weapon’s enchantment is similarly cursed, although the effect is only temporary. The weapon is treated as a +1 but while the weapon is being wielded and for one hour afterwards, he suffers from severe aphasia. During this time, the wielder is not able to understand any spoken or written language (Including hand signs and picographic ones) nor is he able to speak, write or communicate in any meaningful way. The wielder hears words and sees letters as gibberish and speaks in nonsensical noises that only convey tone of voice at best. During this time, the creature cannot cast spells that require verbal components as the curse of the Gods force him to garble his words. The creature cannot be affected from spells or abilities that require him to specifically hear a set of commands or orders that are language dependent, including those originating from allies. —Note: For ammunition and throwing weapons, the curse begins the round the projectile is fired.
Investiture: The grip of the weapon is polished to a mirror finish and should the bearer look upon his own reflection, he feels himself drawn into his own gaze. The feeling is unsettling and the longer the bearer maintains eye contact with himself, the more he feels as though he is falling into the weapon. After a few minutes a heavy sense of vertigo washes over the creature as if gravity shifted and the weapon is physically pulling him into the echoed image of the windows to his soul. The bearer can easily break this eye contact at any time but if the creature looks into the unnatural mirror for ten full minutes, the weapon draws a fraction of the observer’s life force into itself empowering it to fight with the wielder’s spirit. Afterwards the weapon is treated as a +1 for that wielder only but the creature’s maximum hit points are reduced by one hit point per character level (Or 10% of maximum health or other equivalent amount) and during this time the wielder always knows where the weapon is in relation to himself. All of these effects last for 24 hours, after which the weapon releases the portion of stored life energy. A creature who has imbued part of his spirit into the weapon can reset the 24 hour timer at any time by spending one minute gazing into the grip. —Note: Not recommended for ammunition or throwing weapons.
Branding Flame: The image of a military officer outlined in flames is etched on the grip of the weapon. Small tongues of rainbow coloured, fire will occasionally spontaneously form along the weapon and travel down its length before snuffing themselves out. These flames are illusionary and never harm the weapon, the wielder or his equipment. Whenever the wielder successfully hits an enemy, the wielder may choose to engulf the target in a colorful conflagration of harmless fire. The target becomes outlined in pale, prismatic fire that shine as brightly as a candle. The illuminated creature cannot benefit from the concealment normally provided by darkness, invisibility (See Note), camouflage, or mundane stealth but the light is too dim to have any special effect on creatures vulnerable to bright light. These harmless flames last until the start of the wielder’s next turn. Knowledgeable PC’s will know that weapons such as they are sometimes found in military strike teams as a way of marking high profile targets (Such as mages, officers or healers) so that melee units can surround them and ranged allies can focus them down. —Note: Invisible creature are outlined in fire but still invisible, the flames show what square the creature is in but provides no further benefit and the creature is still considered “invisible” for other mechanical benefits or disadvantages.
Rebellious: The symbol of a single raised fist is etched on the grip of the weapon. The bearer is imparted with feelings of resistance and defiance aimed towards those those in authority. While not required to act on these emotions, the bearer may notice subtle changes to their political leanings, finding themselves taking actions of solidarity and support for the overlooked and downtrodden of society. The wielder is flooded with ideals of unity through strength and that even the most powerful of tyrants, monsters and political systems can be racially altered by those who bravely choose to fight against the odds. The weapon is treated as a +1 if the target has more than half of their total hit points remaining.
Merciless: The image of an executioner with a heavy axe decapitating a convict on the chopping block is etched on the grip of the weapon. The bearer is imparted with cold, cruel ideas of the nature of battle and how no combat advantage can be ignored or unused, no matter how unfair or dishonorable it may seem. Seeing an impaired target fills the wielder with the purpose to execute them without hesitation or remorse. The weapon is treated as a +1 whenever the target is suffering a negative condition, including but not limited to; grappled, restrained, frightened, paralyzed, poisoned, blinded, prone, incapacitated, stunned or fatigued. The weapon can never be used to inflict non lethal / stun damage and if the wielder deals enough damage to be given the choice to render a target unconscious or kill them, they must choose to kill the enemy.
Ancestral: A masterfully made weapon that is as much a physical embodiment of the ancestral heritage of the Random Creature Type (See Note) as much as it is a tool of battle. The weapon is inscribed with the names of the creator’s family line stretching back dozens if not hundreds of generation, some with notable titles, honorifics or heroic accomplishments listed next to the names. Where the bearer’s hands would naturally hold the weapon are strangely blank of names or engraving but when a wielder of the ancestral bloodline (IE. Correct creature type, or race) grasps the weapon tightly he can feel the names of his parents rise up from the material and press against the flesh of his hands. When released, the names slowly sink back into the grip. The bearer always feels a touch homesick for the lands of his ancestors and the advice, traditions and wisdom of relatives long since past away. Despite the longings of the past, the bearer is comforted by the knowledge that his forebearers are watching over him and that regardless of where he wanders, he never truly walks alone. The weapon is considered a +1 when wielded by a creature of the correct creature type or race. —Note: There are two main ways to use this weapon. The first is to choose a PC playable race so that your players might actually be able to use it with some restrictions. The second is to have them plentiful on enemies that you want to show are wielding magic weapons but you don’t want to have your PC’s lugging around a dozen +1 longswords. So the PC’s now have a dozen +1 when-wielded-by-gnolls longswords that are magical and semi-valuable without being immediately useful.
Chaos: A weapon wrought with chaotic power and saturated with wild magic that even the air around it seems to be in flux. At one moment the weapon is surrounded by a heat mirage, only to be replaced with leaping sparks, swirling snowflakes or toxic spores. Every physical and metaphysical sense capable of examining the weapon is overwhelmed with constant stimulus as the weapon changes its scent, texture and the sound it produces. Even the extrasensory perceptions of mind altering psionic power and the soul tingling energies of sacred and profane might, are randomly produced from the weapon. The magical implement has the power to burn, freeze, electrocute, melt, cleanse, taint or even damage the very mind of those whose flesh it pierces. The weapon’s method of lethality shifts with every strike and on a successful attack the PC rolls 1d10 and all of the damage dealt by the weapon is considered the matching damage type on the following list: 1 = Fire, 2 = Cold, 3 = Acid, 4 = Lighting, 5 =  Psychic, 6 = Thunder, 7 = Force, 8 = Poison, 9 = Necrotic, 10 = Radiant. Ranged Weapons with this enchantment pass on the effect to ammunition for the turn its fired.
Magnum Opus: The symbol of a woodcarver’s knife and blacksmith’s hammer crossing over each other is etched into the grip of the weapon. The weapon is unbelievably well made, extensively detailed and absolutely covered with intricate workmanship. Design elements that would be considered superfluous minutiae and completely overlooked on other masterworks are represented here with complex patterns in seemingly impossible and rather inexplicable quality. The only thing the weapon lacks is a specific maker’s mark as (Depending on an observer’s opinion) it either sports no such mark due to the overall pattern or it bears dozens of them all blending seamlessly  together to create one motif, representing every famous master weapon-crafter of the weapon’s type. A bearer who is proficient with the weapon must still invest time and energy into learning the many intricacies of the masterpiece of battle and the wielder must have practiced with it for at least one hour in the past week in order to reveal its true potential. Such a bearer becomes familiar with the weapon can spend ten minutes practicing with it at any time while focusing on a specific combat need in mind in order to unlock a new technique. When this occurs a very perceptive PC will notice that one of the maker’s mark within the pattern seems to darken and a different one begins to gleam brighter than the others. The weapon is found with one Random Masterwork Bonus and when the wielder practices for the ten minutes, he may change that bonus to any Masterwork Bonus of his choice on the list. —Note: A DM who is using the Masterwork Bonus list on this blog should make sure to go through it first and make the PC aware ahead of time of any choices that he would not be allowed to choose for balance reasons. This weapon functions as a swiss army knife of weapons, allowing combat focused characters to easily juggle around combat strategies and martial bonuses the way mages can juggle around spells.
Clout: The image of a bighorn ram slamming its bony head into a wolf is etched into the grip of the weapon. Shortly after having the weapon in their possession, the bearer develops territorial instincts and his need for a bubble of personal space increases dramatically. The bearer is not compelled to enforce his newfound feelings and is not forced to violate any strongly held morals or beliefs. In a combat setting however, the wielder’s primal desires to drive away his foes becomes extremely potent and grants him the ability to shove away enemies that are weaker than he is. Whenever the wielder successfully attacks a target with a lower strength score than himself, he can move that creature five feet to an unoccupied space. —Note: Recommended only for melee weapons that primarily use strength to determine accuracy and damage.
Adaptive: The triangular motif of a trio of piercing, slashing and bludgeoning weapons is etched on the grip of the weapon. Embedded into the grip of the weapon is a thick band of pure silver and one of cold iron which prevents some of the wielder’s supernatural enemies from handling the weapon and using it against him. The length of the implement bears sigils of divination magic and when new enemies come within the wielder’s reach, the weapon’s business end shifts and wavers. Knowledgeable PC’s will be able to determine that the divining runes constantly detect resistances, immunities and weaknesses in the physical forms of nearby creatures and automatically adjusts itself to best injure its targets. When the wielder makes an attack, the weapon will instantly change its business end to become sharper, pointier or blunted in order to bypass any resistances the target has or to capitalize on any vulnerabilities. Furthermore if the foe is susceptible to silver or cold iron, the specific ring of that metal will immediately flow from the grip of the weapon to cover the businesses end, causing the weapon to be considered silvered or made of cold ion. Other than the damage types, the weapon’s statistics, required proficiencies and use does not change. After each strike, the weapon reverts to its standard shape and the silver and cold iron retreat back into their proper places, showing no indication that it ever changed.  —Note: Recommended only for melee weapons. A combat example; If the wielder has an Adaptive Greatsword (Which normally deals slashing damage) and attacks demon that’s immune to slashing and piercing damage and is resistant to all non silvered weapons, the Adaptive Greatsword would change to be considered a silvered weapon that deals bludgeoning damage when attacking that demon.
Mercy: The entirely of the object is coated with a thin layer of solidified rubbery magic and the symbol of a sheathed sword is etched on the weapon’s grip. The implement spreads the weapon’s strike throughout the target, making it technically more effective but less than lethal. The distribution of the force of the blow over the target’s body increases its accuracy, causing even glancing blows to strike true. On the other hand the division of the impact over the target’s being means that there is no singular killing blow. The weapon leaves no visible marks of injury or damage, nor will it ever directly kill any of the targets affected by it. The weapon is treated as a +1 but if a living target would take enough damage from an attack with it to render them unconscious or dead, the target instead drops to 1 hit point, remain conscious. The weapon will still “kill” non-living targets such as constructs or undead.
Goading: The image of a bullfighter mid-wave of his red flag at a charging bull is etched into the grip of the weapon. The bearer is filled with bravado, bluster and unearned bravery and see’s no reason why he shouldn’t let his each and every enemy know that he is better than them in every conceivable way. This false courage emboldens the wielder to taunt his foe as part of his attacks, challenging them to fight him and only him no matter the state of the rest of the battlefield. When the wielder lands a successful attack against an intelligent creature or beast within ten feet, he can choose to bellow out a Random Battle Cry, goading insult, deriding comment or other taunting phrase to gain the target’s sole attention. After being provoked in this fashion, the target’s concentration becomes focused on annihilating the wielder and suffers disadvantage on rolls made to attack any creature that is not the wielder but while goaded, the target gains advantage on all attacks made against the wielder. Both effects last until the end of the target’s next turn. The target must understand the wielder in order to be insulted by a verbal phrase but should the wielder have a free hand, he can combine loud yelling with hand waving or a rude gesture to achieve the same effect, on a foe that speaks a different language or an animal. —Note: The ten foot range fluff-wise is so that the wielder can be heard and understood in the din of combat. Mechanically speaking it prevents long range weapons from applying a risk free debuff. Not particularly recommended to ranged weapons or ammunition due to the short range of effect but works well on throwing weapons as an combat opener or distraction tool.
Resurgence: The image of a phoenix rising from a pile of its own ashes is etched into the grip of the weapon. A typical bearer feels nothing out of the ordinary when handling the weapon, other than a vague feeling of the potential for something great. This changes drastically in the hands of a wielder who’s recently been on the very brink of death but fought to remain in the land of the living. Such a wielder is infused with an overwhelming rush of euphoria and vigor as the becomes intoxicated with life itself and filled with a zealous passion to fight for his own life. The weapon is treated as a +1 if the wielder has been at zero hit points or less in the past eight hours.
Mind Probing: The tentacled face of a mind flayer is etched into the weapon’s illithid-skin grip. The wielder can feel the enchanted leather make contact with their mind granting it a small fraction of the mental abilities the aberration had in life. In the brief moment of pain and weakness when the weapon strikes a target, the wielder gains the opportunity to penetrate the victim’s mind and learn snippets of information vital to the fight at hand. Only those of strong mental acuity are able to resist the attempt. Strangely enough, by some odd quirk or purposeful design, the enchantment still function on mindless and unintelligent creatures who are technically immune. In these cases the wielder’s probe rebounds off of the target and he delves into the recesses of his own mind to find tidbits of long forgotten information. Whenever the wielder successfully attacks a target with a lower intelligence score than himself, he learns whether that creature has any damage immunities or condition immunities, damage resistances or damage vulnerabilities, and if the victim has any, the wielder knows what they are.
Face Stealing: The emblem of a simple mask is etched into the weapon’s grip. The bearer can sense maniacal Fey magic flowing through the weapon, subtly encouraging the wielder to wear a visage that is not his own. A longtime bearer who has used the weapon’s magic often, may feel strange dressed in his own face and may start to disassociate with who he actually is. Twice per day, when using the weapon to reduce a creature of his same general size and shape to zero hit points or less, the wielder may choose to trade appearances with the enemy. When this occurs, the wielder’s person is instantly draped in an substantial illusion disguising himself as a perfect double of the foe he just defeated. The wielder’s clothing, armor, weapons, and other belongings are also affected and he can seem up to one foot shorter or taller and can appear thin, fat, or in between but cannot change his body type and must adopt a form that has the same basic arrangement of limbs. The changes wrought by this surge fail to hold up to physical inspection and are purely illusionary. At the same time, the downed enemy is also sheathed in an illusion, causing him to appear as a perfect double of the wielder, including weapons, armor, equipment and other similar details. These illusions last until the bearer dismisses the effect, the weapon leaves the wielder’s possession or until one hour passes.
Acumen: A weapon that although well made, displays no outward signs of magical potential or symbols of enchantment. A canny bearer can feel that the object is more than the sum of its parts and a creature inspecting the weapon experiences the unnerving sensation that it’s doing the same to them. An astute wielder with a discerning mind, experiences sudden flashes of insight after attacking, gaining moments of battle intuition allowing them to defend against the enemy’s next move with the reflexes of a seasoned veteran. Whenever the wielder successfully attacks a target with a lower wisdom score than himself, the wielder’s armor class or physical defensiveness increases as if he was properly wielding a shield against the next attack made by the target until the end of its next turn. The wielder may benefit from this armor class bonus (Typically a +2) even if he is already wielding a shield. —Note: Recommended only for melee weapons.
Baleful Transportation: A design consisting of two stick figures both with lines ending in arrows coming from each other and pointing at the other, is etched on the grip of the weapon. The bearer always feels as though they should be somewhere else no matter where they actually are and feels a slight touch of envy at others who appear comfortable where they are. The wielder can act on these feeling by taking someone else’s place by force, causing the feelings of discomfort and envy to abate for a few hours. Twice per day day after successfully attacking a creature, the wielder can immediately switch places with the target by means of magical teleportation. Both the wielder and the target must be the same size, standing on a solid surface, both must be able to exist in the spaces they are switching and they must be within 20 feet of each other when using ranged attacks.  
Doom: The malevolent symbol of the evil eye is prominently etched on the business end of the weapon. A bearer can feel malicious energy stirring within the weapon’s confine’s longing to be released to wreak havoc on the righteous and the wicked alike. Twice per day after successfully attacking a creature, the wielder can choose to loose evil upon the world and curse the struck foe. Until the start of the wielder’s next turn, sinister forces plague the target with woe and whenever the target makes an attack roll, skill check or a saving throw he must roll 1d4 and subtract the number rolled from the attack roll, skill check or saving throw
Arcane Force: The once whole weapon has been shattered into dozens if not hundreds of pieces and about half of them are missing completely. The object still serves as a perfectly serviceable weapon, as the remaining pieces are being held together in a transparent field of solid magic, not unlike pieces of fruit in a clear, jelly cake. The weapon’s arcane binding reinforces the weapon’s lethal potential, causing injury caused not by blade or bludgeon but of pure magical force. Foes are blasted by eldritch power that bypasses most physical and supernatural defenses to kill in the most direct way possible. On a successful attack, the wielder can choose to have all of the damage dealt be considered force damage rather than the weapon's normal damage type. Projectile ranged weapons will sheath their ammunition in magic when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Furious: The weapon’s worn surfaces are covered in nicks, notches, and bloodstains that serves as memorials to the countless battles it has been used in. Those who wield this tool of murder find their senses overlaid with rage and that their appetite for death and destruction surges with the weapon’s every blow. The weapon sparks a fiery bloodlust in the wielder but a creature who is already capable of inciting a primal frenzy in themselves, finds their battle prowess greatly magnified. A wielder who is raging, frenzied, rampaging or under a similar status effect, treats the weapon as a +1.
Hobbling: The motif of a trio of wolfs hamstringing a moose is carved into the grip of the weapon. The weapon has been modified to better injure that target, taking the form of large barbs, hooks, serrated blades or an improved weight distribution that allows the wielder to better hinder, harass, and hobble his opponent. The wielder is imparted with the knowledge and ability to injure and enemy in such a way that escape is no longer an option. These debilitating strikes allow the wielder’s allies to surround and subdue the enemy not unlike a pack of wolfs cripple a herd animal far larger and stronger than any one of them and downing it as a group. Once per round when the wielder successfully attacks an enemy, he can choose to reduce the target’s maximum movement speed by ten feet until the start of the wielder’s next turn.  
Bewitched: The simple, circular design of the evil eye is emblazoned on the grip of the weapon. The ancient curse mark barely distinguishes between friend and foe, jinxing its wielder as much as its target. The hex symbol draws in violence to itself like a strong magnet, making it noticeable easier for the wielder’s foe’s to kill him. Knowledge PCs will likely determine that the weapon was likely ensorcelled by a witch, fey or genie on the commission of an unwise adventurer who did not choose their words carefully. Such an adventurer no doubt requested a weapon that “Does great harm” or that “Is capable of great violence” and so it is… For all parties involved. The weapon is treated as a +1 but while the weapon is being wielded and for one hour afterwards, the bearer suffers a penalty of -1 to his armor class or other similar physical defenses.
Critical Threat: The image of a large snowball rolling downhill building in size, velocity and danger is etched into the weapon’s grip. A bearer can feel the object’s potential for greatness and that a single lucky blow can start a chain reaction of death to the wielder’s foes. This sensation of potential is ignited when the wielder scores a crippling blow against an enemy and the wielder feels compelled to attack again while his luck runs hot. After landing a critical hit with the weapon, the wielder’s next attack made with it before the end of his next turn is made with advantage.
Reliable: The simply sketched design of an ordinary belt knife is etched into the grip of the weapon. Unlike the majority of magic weapons, this enchantment is almost laughably simple, not in its design (Which is actually standard for its benefits) but in its execution. Typical magic weapons subtly guide their bearer’s attacks, causing them to strike truer and hit harder and the most of the time the wielder is not actively aware of the arcane help. This sorcery however, forcefully directs the wielder’s attacks towards centers of the target’s mass, exposed limbs or other dependable striking locations that are statistically more likely to be hit. The wielder can actively feel the weapon attempting to go its own way into order to strike a foe in a “safe” area that can be reliable hit. While this imposes no penalty on actually wielding the weapon, it makes it impossible to purposely or even accidentally land a lucky blow in a vital area. The weapon is treated as a +1 but whenever the weapon would score a critical hit against an enemy, the critical hit is negated and the attack is considered a successful but non-critical attack instead for all purposes.
Combat Training: A military style coat of arms displaying a pair of spears crossed over a shield is stamped into the grip of the weapon. The combat tool has been enchanted with the finely honed skills of a trained solider, which is magically passed onto the wielder regardless of their actual martial abilities. The bearer is considered to be proficient with that type of weapon as long as he is holding or wielding it in at least one hand. —Note: The wielder must still be able to physically wield the weapon and must still conform to other prerequisite’s such as being a size or strength. Recommended for more complex or martial weapons such as greatswords, heavy crossbows or halberds rather than clubs, slings or daggers. Not recommended for ammunition.  
Cleaving: The image of a warrior cleanly slicing through two goblins at once with one swing of his greataxe is etched into the grip of the weapon. The object feels slightly heavier than normal as if its weight was slightly unbalanced to favor its business end. This quirk of the design allows the wielder’s blow to potentially carve through multiple foes at a time on particularly lethal blows. Once per turn, on the wielder’s turn, when he scores a critical hit with the weapon or reduces a creature to 0 hit points with it, the wielder can immediately make an additional attack with the weapon against a creature within reach.  
Attraction: The image of an outstretched hand with a sword flying toward it hilt first is etched on the grip of the weapon. The object tingles slightly when held and a bearer is able to focus on the sensation of the weapon in their grasp to establish a deep connection with it. While the weapon is bound like this, the creature instinctively knows the direction of the weapon in regards to himself as long as he is within 100 feet of it. Should the bearer concentrate on the weapon over a period of an hour he is able to attune to its magic and is able to call the weapon to hand. An attuned bearer can summon the weapon into a free hand as long as he is within 15 feet of it, by using an action equivalent to drawing a weapon. The object instantly teleports into his grip and the wielder does not require line of sight or effect for this power to function. The weapon can only be bound to one creature at a time and should a new bearer attune to it, the old connection is broken. —Note: Not recommended for ammunition but can be useful on short ranged, thrown weapons.
Smiting: The weapon’s grip is wrapped in perpetually pure white linen from which a network of thin golden veins extend outward. No matter its circumstances, the weapon remains absolutely pristine, free of nicks, dents, stains, blood, gore and dirt, remaining perfect and pure. When held, the bearer’s mind is filled with thoughts of redemption, righteous vindication and protecting the innocent. The wielder is imparted with a strong sense of good and evil and the desire to see justice done and the corruption of the world washed away. The weapon’s divine power purges impurities by searing the skin and scorching the soul. On a successful attack, the wielder can choose to have all of the damage dealt be considered radiant damage rather than the weapon's normal damage type. Projectile ranged weapons will bless their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Death: The weapon is pale and ashen, with the symbol of a horse and a human skull etched into the grip. The bearer feels the morbid urge to witness the deaths of as many creatures as he can manage, especially those of his own race. This urge is more macabre curiosity rather than homicidal in nature and does not necessarily encourage the wielder to kill but will encourage the bearer to do nothing but watch rather than staunch the wound of a creature bleeding out. If the bearer personally witnesses the death of a creature of their own species (As in human, elf or dwarf, not just another humanoid), the weapon glows slightly and is treated as a +1 weapon for the next eight hours for that wielder only. The eight hour timer is reset each time the wielder meets the enchantment’s requirements. —Note: Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Victory: The image of a fallen creature’s last breath wrapping around the victor and becoming a ghostly protector is emblazoned on the grip of the weapon. The wielder can sense with each blow that the weapon seems to be trying to leech off a portion of the target’s life force but is only successful when the foe is no longer capable of fighting back. When the weapon is used to land the killing blow on a creature, the weapon steals a fraction of the victim’s dying energy forming a protective shield around the wielder. This shield completely absorbs the wielder’s injuries, keeping him safe and secure before eventually failing. Whenever the wielder lands a killing blow against a creature, the wielder gains a number of temporary hit points equal to two hit points per character (Or 20% of maximum health or other equivalent amount), represented by a shimmering layer of force. Whenever the wielder would take damage, the shield absorbs it instead, protecting the wielder from harm. If this damage reduces the temporary hit points to zero, the wielder takes any remaining damage. The shield dissolves when the amount temporary hit points reaches zero or until one minute passes. If the wielder kills a creature while the shield is still activated, the amount of temporary hit points and timer is reset, it does not stack with itself. For this ability to function, the dying creature’s maximum hit points must be at least as much as the shield it would create, otherwise the shield cannot draw enough energy to function and does not form.
Onslaught: The image of a pair of rage filled eyes decorates the weapon’s grip. The implement draws upon its wielder’s desire for death and destruction, distilling the energy to a palpable force and releasing it towards the target. Each time the weapon swings in their direction, the target’s mind is flooded with white hot needles of pain and suffering. Should the attack not find its mark, the pure emotional force of the wielder's indignation is enough to cause the target actual pain even if the weapon never actually made contact. Whenever the wielder attacks a creature within range but fails to hit for any reason, the target still suffers psychic damage equivalent to a dagger (1d4).
Berserker: The symbol of an enraged wolverine is etched on the grip of the weapon. When held, the wielder becomes awake of a sleeping seed of rage buried within themselves that they can choose to awaken in times of need. When stirred, his inner beast bursts forth and he becomes an engine or destruction. The wielder’s blows rain down harder and his skin hardens shrugging off minor wounds. On his turn the wielder can enter a frenzied state. During this time his melee attacks are treated as a +1’s and and all incoming sources of nonmagical slashing bludgeoning and piercing damage are reduced by 1 hit point. At the end of one minute the rage ends and the wielder is left exhausted as if they had gone a night without sleeping. Creatures who are immune from becoming exhausted are not able to activate the berserker state as the frenzy specifically requires the wielder to push past their body’s normal limits severely overworking their muscles and adrenal system. —Note: Recommended only for melee weapons, especially two handed ones.
Thief’s Light: The design of a cloaked figure holding out a hooded lantern is etched into the grip of the weapon. The weapon feels lighter than normal and casual noises that it makes such as being drawn from a sheath or the twang of a bowstring being fired, sound heavily muffled as if the object was wrapped in layers of wool. The enchantment seems custom made for infiltration, assassination and roguish work, allowing the bearer to observe their surrounding in detail without drawing attention to themselves. Twice per day, the wielder can activate the weapon, causing it to emit bright light equivalent to a torch in a colour the bearer chooses. Only the wielder is able to perceive the light, all other creatures see no additional illumination. The light lasts until the wielder chooses to dismiss it, the wielder is no longer holding the weapon or until five minutes passes.
Infiltration: A subtly weapon covered in a dark mottled pattern that slowly changes to better blend in to its current environment. Empowered with arcane magics that dampen sound, the wielder can force his victims to suffer in silence. The weapon makes no noise of any sort when it strikes a target and negates any sound the target would make as a result of being hit. Even if the wielder took the weapon into both hands and struck a gong as hard as they could, the result would only be silence. A creature struck by the weapon cannot utter any sounds louder than a barely audible whisper until the start of the wielder’s next turn. While the weapon is being wielded and for five minutes afterwards, the bearer cannot speak louder than a barely audible whisper. This does not hinder spellcasting (Unless the spell requires the target to hear the bearer) as the bearer is still able to speak but he cannot provide rallying cries to allies, give instructions, shout for help, or yell warnings. The forced whispering hinders the bearer’s ability to properly project their personality and they suffer disadvantage on all charisma based checks that rely on them speaking. —Note: In game terms only creatures within five feet of the bearer or victim can hear him whispering in optimal conditions. During loud situations such as combat, thunderstorms or in a loud taverns, whispers cannot be heard at all.
Horror: The image of a human face set in a wide eyed, open mouthed aspect of pure terror, drawn in a talented but shaking hand decorates the weapon’s grip. The weapon’s form seems to shift and waver just out of the corner of one’s eye when in areas of darkness or shadow and anytime the sun no longer graces the sky. Grasping the weapon initiates a creeping dread within the wielder, a primal, instinctual fear that pushes them to fight for for their life like a cornered rat. A bearer who chooses to face their fear can allow it to pass over them and through them during their weakest moments. The weapon is treated as a +1 but those that wield it find that their fears are patient and will wait until the rush of adrenaline and danger has worn off and the terror will return when the wielder is weak and vulnerable. When wielded in combat the weapon leaves traces of dread on the wielder’s psyche and the next time the wielder attempts to get a full night’s rest his sleep is disturbed by a Random Nightmare and there is a 10% chance that he is so tormented by the dream that he gains no benefit from the rest whatsoever.
Heartless: The image of a humanoid figure with a ragged hole where its heart should be has been branded into the grip of the weapon. The weapon is grisly tool of battle, all piercing spikes, cutting edges and hard blunt faces. The wielder experiences a strange unnatural calm while holding the weapon, as if all of their empathy, hatred, compassion, rage and all their strongest emotions were locked away behind a frozen wall of objective reason. The wielder acts with brutal rationalism and callous logical reasoning which makes them a nightmarish opponent on the battlefield but an unfeeling sociopath in casual conversation. The wielder is able to use the abominable looking weapon in ways a person with even a drop of compassion never would, manipulating it to great effect, landing cruel, maiming strikes. Twice per day when the wielder successfully attacks, the player may select any single rolled damage die of his choosing (See Note) and that die will be considered to have rolled the maximum possible result for that type of die instead of the current result. This must be done after damage is rolled but before it is dealt to the target. Handling the weapon leaves the wielder emotionally crippled and while it is being wielded and for one hour afterwards, the bearer suffers disadvantage on all skill checks involving animal handling, insight, sense motive and all charisma based skill checks. —Note: This affects the weapon’s damage itself AND other sources of additional damage such as sneak attack, divine smite or spell effects. Projectile weapons with this enchantment bestow the power upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Portent: The symbol of a wide open eye is etched into the grip of the weapon. After spending some time with the weapon in his possession, the bearer begins to receive strange new sensations of things yet to come and glimpses of the future begin to press in on his awareness. Many of the visions are incomprehensibly strange showing delusions of events that are not fated to occur. A chosen few of the premonitions are flashes of second sight into the bearer’s own destiny. These harbingers of the future can be exploited to spin the threads of fate into a pattern of the bearer’s favor. After finishing a long rest during which the weapon has been in the bearer’s possession, the player rolls two d20’s and records the numbers rolled. While the weapon is wielded by that specific bearer, he can choose to replace any attack roll made by the wielder or a creature that he can see with one of these foretelling rolls. The wielder must choose to do so before the roll, and he can replace a roll in this way only once per turn. Each foretelling roll can be used only once and when the bearer finishes another long rest, he loses any unused foretelling rolls.
Aiming: The symbol of a red and white archery target marks the weapon’s grip. A bearer feels mildly calmer with the weapon on their person as if they know of a secret technique that will protect them even in dire straits. The wielder is able to take a moment and center themselves, focusing all of their attention on their target, banishing all other distractions from their mind. With nothing but the target in mind, the wielder is able to strike true even in the midst of a chaotic battle. Once on the wielder’s turn, he can choose to make his next attack with the weapon gain advantage to hit. The wielder can only do this if he has not moved yet during this turn, and after making the attack the wielder’s movement speed drops to 0 until the end of the current turn. —Note: Recommended for ranged weapons.
Smoking: A grey weapon that seems to be made entirely of solidified swirls of thick, black fog, its surface roiling with constant motion. The weapon provides a ready cover for those needing a quick escape and is perfect for rogues, infiltrators and assassins in case such situations arise. Twice per hour, when the wielder successfully attacks a target, he can activate the weapon thereby creating a deafening crack and releasing a billowing cloud of smoke that fills a five foot square with dense black mist, both of which originate at the target’s location. If the target is a creature, the victim’s space becomes engulfed in the opaque smoke and he is effectively blinded but also gains full cover from outside attacks. All creatures within 30 feet of the target are momentarily distracted by the noise and smoke, suffering disadvantage on perception checks until the start of the wielder’s next turn. The dark fog is harmless, causing no injury and dissipating completely at the start of the wielder’s next turn. If the enchantment is on a thrown or projectile weapon or ammunition, the wielder can easily “attack” an empty space or unattended object within the weapon’s range that they can clearly see to create the noise and smoke in a specific five foot square. —Note: Recommended for projectile weapons, throwing weapons and ammunition.
Hunter: The faded design of a set of footprints runs the length of the weapon’s grip. The weapon has a simple rustic appeal as if it was designed for rough outdoor use and has spent more than a few nights lying under a makeshift lean-to next to its owner. The weapon spurs the bearer’s primal hunting instincts spurring him to track, search and chase his prey wherever they run. Upon successfully striking a creature, the wielder can use the weapon to form a metaphysical link between himself and the target. This connection allows the wielder to track down his prey and finish the hunt in the event that the creature flees from the fight. Twice per day when the wielder successfully attacks a creature he may choose to mark the target with the primal energy. For the next hour, as long as the weapon is in the wielder’s possession he is aware of the direction of the marked creature and gains advantage to any checks made to track, follow or find his target.
Temporal Flux: The symbol of a sundial carved into the weapon’s grip. The weapon is of a strangely intermediate age, changing constantly from appearing brand new, in mint condition and barely a day old, to looking ancient, battered and weathered, seeming centuries old and fluctuating along every age in between. A slight haze surrounds the weapon glittering with chronomantic magic that bends time around itself in inconsequential ways. An autumn leaf falling near the weapon might turn from fall orange to the bright fresh green of spring or shrivel to the black of winter and disintegrate into dust, before leaving the weapon’s aura of influence and return to normal. In combat the wielder is engulfed in the chaotic time-field and will sometimes see enemies attacking impossibly quickly, only for their attack to slow to a crawl just before landing, allowing the wielding to react in time. The arbitrary hasting and slowing of the wielder’s environment balances out equally, neither hindering nor boosting his combat prowess. The wielder does gain a fleeting moment of control over the shifting aeonic energies on truly powerful blows and can use the temporal magic to accelerate his reactions or delay his target’s responses. Whenever the wielder lands a critical hit, he can harness the resulting temporal flux and choose one of two options to take effect; 1, The wielder can hasten himself, gaining the highest initiative result and placing himself first in the initiative order out all creatures involved. 2, The wielder can slow the target, causing the victim to acquire the lowest initiative result, placing the target last in the initiative order out all creatures involved. Both effects begin on the next round of initiative and last until the end of the current combat. If the wielder sends multiple creatures to the bottom of the initiative, the most recent one to be sent to the bottom is considered the last one to have a turn in the round. If there is no current initiative order, the wielder can instead choose to grant himself advantage, or grant the target disadvantage on initiative checks made for the next hour.
Inexorable: The twinned symbol of the Goddess of Fate and Death is stained into the weapon’s grip with dried blood that refuses to be wiped away. Although not magical in itself, the weapon seems to have somehow been “blessed” by Fate and Death. The weapon may have been graced in this way by slaying a heretic or serious foe who opposed the Goddess, been tempered or forged by sacrificing a life, been instrumental in fulfilling a minor prophecy, was held by a warrior slain in battle whose spirit imprinted on the weapon and refuses to pass on until certain conditions are met or simply perhaps the weapon was used to send so many souls to Her domain in the afterlife. The wielder could swear that with each swing of the weapon they experience two different simultaneous strikes against the target, in a sort of violent deja-vu. In the briefest fraction of time during the swing, the wielder can see the result of both strikes and can choose their own fate and that of their victim. Whenever the player rolls to determine the weapon’s damage, he may roll the weapon’s damage die twice and choose either result to use. —Note: This only affects the weapon’s damage itself and not other sources of additional damage such as sneak attack, divine smite or spell effects. Projectile weapons with this improvement bestow the bonus upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Glass: A weapon inexplicably made solely of a crystal clear, glass prism. The entire weapon is made from one single piece of the glass that seems to neither have been poured, nor blown into its current shape. The transparent material refracts even the weakest light into a rainbow of colors that shine in all directions. The glass has been magically enchanted to be stronger than steel and the weapon is as flexible and functional as a typical one of its kind. Regardless of the material components of its frame, the weapon is brutally, supernaturally effective. The weapon is always considered a +1 weapon but unfortunately for the bearer, the enchantments that provide the weapon its lethal potential function by sapping the wielder of his vitality and resilience. While the weapon is being wielded and for one hour afterwards, anytime the bearer takes at least 1 hit point worth of damage from any source, the amount of damage the bearer receives is increased by 1 hit point, due to the weapon’s drain on his constitution. —Note: A combat example: The wielder is stabbed with a dagger dealing 4 points of damage but because he is wielding the glass weapon (Or has actively wielded it in the past hour) he takes 5 points of damage instead.
Retaliation: A fearsome weapon with cruel-looking adornments of spikes, blades and hooks jutting out at vicious angles over the weapon’s entire length. The material was infused with shamanistic energies, taking the savage power of the natural world and pressurizing it within the weapon. The spirit of a ferocious wild animal permanently (Like a bear, badger or boar) resides within the weapon’s form, flooding the wielder with its primal rage and the instinct to retaliate without a moment’s hesitation after being grievously injured. Whenever the wielder is struck by a critical hit in melee, the spirit pours its natural aggression into the wielder who is able to immediately attack any creature within his reach as an attack of opportunity.  
Invigorating: The symbol of a humanoid form outlined in a corona of energy waves is etched into the weapon’s grip. Simply possessing the weapon makes the bearer feel strong, healthy and powerful. Wielding the weapon is physically and mentally rejuvenating, washing away pain and fatigue. Activating the weapon unlocks the wielder’s hidden potential allowing him to become the best version of himself for a brief moment in time. Twice per day an attuned wielder can (As an action equivalent to drawing a weapon) grant himself advantage on ability and skill checks of a single ability score (Such as Strength, Dexterity, Intelligence or Charisma) for five minutes. Only one creature can be attuned to the weapon at a time and the bearer must spend an hour in quiet contemplation with the sword to attune to it.
Decisive Victory: The maker’s mark of a master craftsman has been flawlessly etched into the weapon’s grip. The implement was professional crafted and is truly a pleasure to look at as much as it is to wield in combat. The weapon seems to be more of a work of art than a tool of destruction and violence. It sports gold or silver filigree, gemstone studs, platinum banding, expert carvings, detailed etchings and decorative illusions that serve to draw attention to itself. Despite all the lack of subtlety (Or perhaps because of it) the wielder experiences elegant, almost grandiose sensations when they use the weapon in combat, as if they were performing combat rather than fighting. The weapon is as deadly as it is beautiful, as the craftsman strove for singularity powerful blows as much as they did physical perfection. The weapon’s magic ensures critical strikes to vital areas and is able to sap the wielder’s physical reserves in order to facilitate that goal. Whenever the wielder successfully attacks a creature, he can choose to have that attack be considered a critical hit at the cost of immediately becoming exhausted as if he had gone a night without sleeping. —Note: Creatures who are immune to becoming exhausted are unable to channel their energy through the weapon and cannot activate it. While this enchantment has its own steep cost to use, a DM may wish to institute a 2 or 3 use per day limit on the weapon’s power if it is too powerful. Alternatively, rule that a creature who is already exhausted cannot activate the weapon’s power.  
Echoing Strike: The symbol of a blacksmith hammering a piece of iron is etched into the grip of the weapon. The enchantment laced throughout the weapon guides its wielder to hit the enemy in the same spot over and over. The wielder is able to repeatedly hammer the exact same location on the target’s body, weakening armor, aggravating wounds, crunching bones and greatly escalating the chance of inflicting grievous injuries. Whenever the wielder successfully attacks a target, the wielder’s next attack against the same target has its critical hit range expanded by one. Multiple successful hits against the same target continues to increase the critical hit range until the end of the wielder’s turn, meaning the wielder’s first attack against a single target will score a critical hit on a 20, then a 19 or 20 then on an 18, 19 or 20, etc.
Shadow Kill: On the weapon’s grip resides an otherworldly, black mark made of three interlocking forms consisting outward pointing spikes and curved lines all surrounding a single dot in the center. When the weapon is used to kill, the mark glows with a deep golden light and emits a puff of similarly colored smoke. Knowledgeable PC’s will be able to recognize the mark as that of the eldritch, inhuman representative of the Void, known only as The Outsider and that the symbol’s design represents the wielder’s killer instincts and ability to remain unseen. Whenever a creature is slain by the weapon, The Outsider takes the still-warm corpse as an offering and the flesh and bones are consumed by heatless, black fire. After a few seconds only a pile of cold ashes and equipment are left behind. The wielder can never use the weapon to inflict non-lethal / stun damage and if the wielder deals enough damage to be given the choice to render a target unconscious or kill them, he must choose to kill the enemy. The Outsider accepts all sacrifices and should the bearer be killed while wielding the weapon or having wielded it in the last minute, his body is likewise turned to carbonized dust, consumed by the weapon’s power.
Clockwork: Embedded into the grip of the weapon is a small, copper, watch face, containing tiny interlocking gears powered by horomancy, an arcane discipline that uses clockwork to manipulate magic. A bearer that puts his ear to the grip can hear faint ticking and whirring noises coming from within. When the wielder makes an attack roll with the magewrought weapon, he can forgo rolling the d20 to get an 11 on the die. This property can be used twice per day.
Hexing: The symbol of a small voodoo doll with six different pins sticking into different parts of its body is painted onto the weapon’s grip in blood. The bearer can feel the weapon’s supernatural curse dwelling within, ready to be released into an unwilling victim. With a successful strike, the weapon can taint the victim’s body or mind with a foul corruption, weakening their muscles or clouding their thoughts. Twice per day when the wielder successfully attacks a creature, he may choose to impose disadvantage on saving throws of one of the target’s ability scores (Such as Strength, Dexterity, Intelligence or Charisma) until the start of the wielder’s next turn.
Accumulation: The grip of the weapon is covered in a number of mystical sigils, glyphs and emblems all designed to absorb and contain various types of energy so that is can be called upon in a moment of need. Whenever the weapon moves it feels slightly heavier than its size suggests, due to one of the sigils absorbing a minuscule percentage of the object’s kinetic force, storing it for later use. A necromantic seal produces an aura that saps away the life of dying creatures too small to be seen with the naked eye (Viruses, bacteria and cells), drawing the sparks of their being into the weapon, while causing no harm to bearer. An arcane glyph pulls in and accumulates the residual magical by-products that are created as part of casting a spell that would dissipate normally, like the metaphysical equivalent of the smoke of a fire. Transmutation icons absorb electrical, thermodynamic and magnetic potential causing the area immediately around the weapon to be a touch colder, free from static shocks and less magnetic, all constant effects but unnoticeable unless one is specifically looking for them. Fey pictographs draw wisps of raw natural vitality from nearby ley lines and bind the organic essence to the weapon’s artificial form. Another handful of different insignia similarly absorb tiny amounts of power each from their own unique sources. The wildly different energies are aggregated into an internal reservoir of power that can be burned as supernatural fuel to enhance the weapon for a brief moment before the esoteric well runs dry. Once per day as an action equivalent to drawing a weapon, the wielder can activate the weapon with a command word causing it to be treated as a +1 for one minute.
Seeking: The image of a human with a target on its chest where its heart lies has been branded into the weapon’s grip. The implement has been ensorcelled with patient opportunist magic that conserves its power, waiting for the perfect time to react. On particularly effective blows, the weapon activates filling its wielder with a burst of speed, allowing him to try stabbing or swinging again at the same spot, aggravating the severe injury even further. Projectile weapons with this enchantment place a noticeable spin on their ammunition causing them to corkscrew into the wound creating a hideously maiming injury if the wielder lands the shot just right. In thrown weapons and ammunition, the objects are enchanted to shatter on impact, hopefully leaving debris in the target’s body or potentially spraying shrapnel over the victim creating a wide area of serious lacerations. Following up with a secondary attack or landing a projectile in optimal area is a combination of luck and skill and not always possible. Whenever the wielder scores a critical hit he can attempt to confirm the followup strike. The player immediately makes another attack roll (See Note) with all the same modifiers as the initial attack except that the wielder gains advantage on the attack roll. If the wielder already had advantage on the roll he gains an additional +1 to the roll’s result. If the wielder’s confirmation attack roll also results in a hit against the target’s armor class, the followup attack is successful and the wielder deals additional damage on the critical hit equal to the maximum result of one of the weapon’s damage dice (Like an 8 on a d8) the player rolled for the attack’s damage. The confirmation roll just needs to be enough to hit the target normally, it doesn’t need to be a critical hit again. If the secondary attack roll would be considered a miss, then the initial attack is still considered a critical hit.  —Note: This secondary attack role is not another true attack and does not take an action or use any resources. A combat example: A PC wielding a Rebounding Mace rolls a natural 20 against the target and attempts a secondary attack roll. The PC then rolls another attack to confirm the critical and gets a result of 18, which is less than the target’s armor class of 15. Since the confirmation rolls is a hit, the PC will add +8 (Assuming that the mace uses 1d8 for damage) damage to the normal damage resulting from the critical hit. Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Kinetic Redirection: The grip of the weapon is stamped with an esoteric evocation sigil that manipulates dynamic potential. Whenever the weapon moves it feels slightly heavier than its size suggests, as the symbol absorbs a minuscule percentage of the object’s kinetic pressure and transforms it into arcane force. Furthermore the weapon is able to recycle excess physical energy and launch it at a nearby enemy so that no part of the attack is wasted. Whenever the wielder brings a creature to 0 hit points, any damage in excess of that is harnessed by the sigil and can be redirected. The wielder can immediately choose another creature he can see within 30 feet of the downed creature and launch a bolt of pure magical energy at the second target which automatically hits, dealing force damage equal to the amount of damage left over after bringing the original target to 0 hit points. If this arcane bolt kills the second target, the wielder may repeat the process on a third target (Then forth, fifth, etc) until there is no more excess damage. —Note: A combat example: The wielder hits a near death creature who has 5 hit points, and deals 20 damage. The creature dies at 0 hp and the wilder directs a force bolt dealing 15 damage at another wounded creature who has 10 hp remaining. The second creature also dies and the wielder directs another arcane bolt at a third creature which deals 5 damage, leaving the third target injured but alive. Not recommended for thrown weapons or ammunition.
Endling: Inlaid in bone on the weapon’s grip a grim tableau of a standing humanoid figure flanked on both sides by a humanoid skeleton. Touching the weapon instills a terrible feeling of loss, loneliness and isolation regardless of the number of people around the bearer. The wielder becomes a solitary figure in their own mind, as though they were always on the edge of conversations and companionship but never included. These feelings dissipate when the weapon is released or whenever a member of the bearer’s own species is nearby. The emotional turmoil of the oppressive solitude provides the wielder an inner drive to stay alive and fight back against all odds. The weapon is treated as a +1 if there are no other living creatures of the wielders same species within 100 feet.
Manaburn: The weapon’s length is emblazoned with a myriad of supernatural marks spanning a dozen different magical traditions from the traditionally arcane, religiously divine and the unearthly occult. Observer’s knowledgeable in the transmundane arts will be able to determine that each and every one of the esoteric symbols that run the length of the weapon have been defaced in some way. While some religious seals have desecrating line breaks and other glyphs sport additional contours that would cause serious spell misfires, most of the runes have simply been reversed as if they were being seen in a mirror’s reflection. The weapon contains an unstable collection of defective energy, designed to seek out functioning magic and violently cancel it out in a manner not unlike how a fireball can make a pool of explosive oil disappear. Whenever the wielder successfully attacks a creature, the target loses the lowest spell slot or spells per day they have available (As if they had cast the spell) and suffers 1d4 necrotic damage per level of the spell slot lost. Whenever the wielder rolls a natural 1 on an attack roll, he suffers the same effect, losing his lowest spell and being injured as it's violently dispelled. This power has no effect on at-will spells such as cantrips that can be cast without limit and if the target has no spells left there is no effect. Projectile weapons with this enchantment bestow the bonus upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Deadeye: The graceful weapon has been shaped and formed with accuracy and precision in mind. The grip bears the raised design of an archery target with two arrows in the center, one splitting the other in half. The weapon subtly guides its wielder’s attacks, causing them to strike truer and hit harder, magnifying skill blows into truly vicious attacks. Whenever the wielder attacks with advantage and hits the target, if the lower of the two d20 results would have also hit the target, the attack is considered a critical hit instead of a regular one. —Note: This works best in the D&D 5e Advantage / Disadvantage system. In other systems the enchantment’s effect might kick in if the PC would have hit the target with its straight d20 roll without bonuses or if the attack roll exceeded the target’s AC by 5 or more. Projectile weapons with this enchantment bestow the bonus upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Flaming: The weapon is fashioned from smoldering materials and the symbol of a tongue of flame is branded into the grip. Embers still crackle and burn in the charred wooden components and metallic parts have cherry red business ends with tiny rivulets of liquid metal trailing along the weapon’s length. The entire object is surrounded by a wavy heat mirage and although the weapon feels warm to the touch, it is never hot enough to damage a creature who simply holds it, nor will the weapon ignite objects on contact. The weapon’s fiery power deal burning injuries that scorch the skin and leave charred, smoldering corpses in the wielder’s wake. When used in combat, the wielder’s hands become coated in a fine layer of ashes and whenever the wielder successfully strikes a target, he inflicts fire damage equivalent to a dagger (1d4) in addition to the attack's damage. Projectile ranged weapons will ignite their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Frost: The weapon is fashioned from frigid materials and the symbol of a snowflake is carved into the frost on the grip. The frozen implement never melts or cracks, even in the fiercest of heat but will mist and emit water vapor in warm temperatures. Although the object feels cold to the touch, the ice never freezes material it touches or cause frostbite in its wielder. The weapon’s icy magics create rime rimmed wounds that leak slushy, half frozen blood from blackened, frostbitten flesh. When used in combat, the wielder’s hands become coated in a fine layer of frost (Which deals no damage and melts normally) and whenever the wielder successfully strikes a target, he inflicts cold damage equivalent to a dagger (1d4) in addition to the attack's damage. Projectile ranged weapons will freeze their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Bleaching: The weapon is fashioned from significantly damaged materials and the symbol of a partially dissolved hand is acid etched into the grip. Any metallic parts of the weapon are pitted, corroded and covered in rust and wooden components are stained, acid burned and generally discolored. The object is rough and sharp to the touch, leaving the wielder’s hands rust stained and blemished as if exposed to a weak acid. Sizable pieces of rust occasionally flake off of the weapon, disintegrating when they hit the ground but the object never seems to reduce in size or weight no matter how much is lost. The weapon’s acidic properties dissolve the target’s flesh, leaving caustic, chemically burned corpses that reek of acerbic solvents. Whenever the wielder successfully strikes a target, he inflicts acid damage equivalent to a dagger (1d4) in addition to the attack's damage. Projectile ranged weapons will contaminate their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Shocking: The weapon is heavily accented with electrically conductive materials and the symbol of a lightning bolt is prominently displayed on the copper wire grip. The weapon flickers with jolts of power (Never harmful or distracting to the bearer) and discharges small static shocks on a regular basis and when held this property extends to the bearer as well, causing their hair to stand on end and small arcs of electricity to jump between fingers and strands of hair. When actively being used in combat, the electricity charges and discharges faster as the weapon audible crackles and violently sparks. The weapon’s conductive nature directs lethal jolts of power directly into the target’s body, shocking the delicate nervous system and leaving smoking, flash burned skin. Whenever the wielder successfully strikes a target, he inflicts lighting damage equivalent to a dagger (1d4) in addition to the attack's damage. Projectile ranged weapons will charge their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Psionic: The grip of the weapon is formed not of wood, leather or metal but rather of corded brain tissue that has been wrapped around the handle. The grip feels damp and squishy beneath the wielders grip as if the grey matter was still fresh. A knowledgeable PC will be able to determine that the brain tissues come from a number of different creatures who all had psionic, telepathic, telekinetic or other powerful mental abilities. Bearers who hold the weapon for long periods of time or attack with it, experience fleeting mental flashbacks of lives they never lived, as the memories locked away in the preserved brains leak into the wielder. The weapon’s psionic power attacks its victim’s very psyche, mutilating their mind, exterminating their ego and brutalizing their brain. Whenever the wielder successfully strikes a target, he inflicts psychic damage equivalent to a dagger (1d4) in addition to the attack's damage. Projectile ranged weapons will enhance their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Echoing: An unassuming weapon that vibrates and emits audible tones at the slightest disturbance. A steel tuning fork is seamlessly incorporated into the weapon’s form typically with the handle and two prongs serving as the weapon’s grip and pommel. When actively being used in combat, the reverberations of the weapon’s swings, successful blows and the wielder’s own pounding heartbeats are magnified and stored by the tuning fork, building up small shock waves of violent thunderous power that are discharged directly into the wielder’s foes. The weapon’s sonic vibrations change match the resonance frequency of its target, causing blows that splinter bone, rupture eardrums and explode hearts. Whenever the wielder successfully strikes a target, he inflicts thunder damage equivalent to a dagger (1d4) in addition to the attack's damage. Projectile ranged weapons will vibrate their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Dynamic: The once whole weapon has been shattered into dozens if not hundreds of pieces and about half of them are missing completely. The object still serves as a perfectly serviceable weapon, as the remaining pieces are being held together in a transparent field of solid magic, not unlike pieces of fruit in a clear, jelly cake. The weapon’s arcane binding reinforces the weapon’s lethal potential, causing injury caused not by blade or bludgeon but of pure magical force. Foes are blasted by eldritch power that bypasses most physical and supernatural defenses to kill in the most direct way possible. Whenever the wielder successfully strikes a target, he inflicts force damage equivalent to a dagger (1d4) in addition to the attack's damage. Projectile ranged weapons will sheath their ammunition in magic when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Envenomed: The business end of the weapon sports a number of pinprick sized holes and a single inland taipan fang is embedded into the grip. The hypodermic snake fang’s point aims along the length of the weapon and a perceptive PC can actually see bloated drops of neurotoxins resting at the pinprick sized venom channels at the business end. The wielder feels an unpleasant warm tingling sensation in their weapon hand, as if a fraction of the venomous power somehow penetrated their skin. The weapon’s toxins are injected directly into its victim’s flesh, coagulating the blood, paralyzing muscle and necrotizing the once healthy tissue. Whenever the wielder successfully strikes a target, he inflicts poison damage equivalent to a dagger (1d4) in addition to the attack's damage. Projectile ranged weapons will envenom their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Scourging: The weapon’s grip is wrapped in dark purple leather from which a network of thin black veins extend outward. If the weapon is ever stained, nicked, dented or covered in blood or gore, a number of the dark veins slowly shift to that area. They seem to absorb the imperfections, damages and filth into the weapon’s form, like the roots of a plants soaking up water, causing the object to feel the slightest bit heavier and more lethal. When held, the bearer’s mind is filled with dark thoughts of cruelty, senseless violence and causing harm to innocents. The wielder is instilled with the certainty that everything in life or death is theirs to command if they can shrug off their ethical and moral compunctions and reach out and take what they want by force. The weapon’s perverse energies deal unnatural injuries that foul the flesh and stain the soul. Whenever the wielder successfully strikes a target, he inflicts necrotic damage equivalent to a dagger (1d4) in addition to the attack's damage. Projectile ranged weapons will taint their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Hallowed: The weapon’s grip is wrapped in perpetually pure white linen from which a network of thin golden veins extend outward. No matter its circumstances, the weapon remains absolutely pristine, free of nicks, dents, stains, blood, gore and dirt, remaining perfect and pure. When held, the bearer’s mind is filled with thoughts of redemption, righteous vindication and protecting the innocent. The wielder is imparted with a strong sense of good and evil and the desire to see justice done and the corruption of the world washed away. The weapon’s divine power purges impurities by searing the skin and scorching the soul. Whenever the wielder successfully strikes a target, he inflicts radiant damage equivalent to a dagger (1d4) in addition to the attack's damage. Projectile ranged weapons will bless their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Surgical: The image of a hair being split with a blade has been incised into the grip of the weapon with a razor sharp scalpel. While the enchantment grants no inherent benefit to the accuracy of its wielder’s attacks, it greatly rewards those who are able to land precise strikes. The bearer is imparted with a vague sense of assorted medical information related to nerve clusters, animal musculature, joint manipulation and and how to best mutilate said anatomical systems if accurately struck. After a successful attack, the wielder deals additional damage equal to the attack’s result that exceeded the target’s armor class. —Note: A combat example; The wielder got a 20 on the attack roll and the target’s AC is 18. The attack exceeds the target’s AC by 2 and deals 2 additional points of damage.  
Polarity: A paradoxical weapon split equally into two halves that could not be more differing in their physical appearance. One side is stained and heavy, covered in raised patterns of hard angles with a grip made of a rough black leather. The other is smooth and pristine, mostly featureless with the occasional delicate whorl ornamentation and a grip of soft white leather. The weapon is unbalanced and unwieldy resulting in attacks that are either pitifully weak or devastatingly strong with no middle ground. The weapon represent a magical balance of extremes and whenever the wielder makes a weapon damage roll, treat any die roll result of half or less as a “1” and any result higher than half of the maximum as having rolled the maximum result. Any magical or supernatural effects that allows the wielder to reroll damage rolls, disrupts the delicate magic and prevents the weapon from functioning, however mundane abilities gained from training or physical skill can still be used in conjunction with the weapon.—Note: For example, if the damage dice is 1d8, a result of 1-4 will be changed to a 1 and a 5-8 will be treated as an 8.
Inevitable: A weapon with a perpetually spinning gyroscope embedded into the grip. The device is completely encased in transparent crystal but a bearer that puts his ear to the grip can hear faint whirring noise and feel the vibrations coming from within. A combination of magical artifice and mundane engineering, the magewrought gyroscope imposes a perfect stabilization on the weapon’s balance and form, immediately and accurately compensating for everything that its subjected to. This causes the weapon to function perfectly as intended. No more, no less. The nature of perfection allows no room for deviation of any variety. Regardless of any contributing factors, whether they originate from the wielder, ally, enemy or the general environment, whenever the wielder makes an attack roll with the Invevitable weapon he can never roll with advantage or disadvantage, it is always a single d20 roll.
Pragmatic: An anatomical drawing of a humanoid highlighting a few key of pressure points and vulnerable areas, is etched into the weapon’s grip. Hundreds of hours worth of practical combat experience from pit fighters, tavern bouncers and mercenary veterans has been distilled and infused within the weapon’s form. The weapon itself is a model of combat utility making it perfect for harrying and debilitating opponents rather than directly injuring. The wielder becomes accurately, instinctively aware that fair fights are a chivalrous fantasy and that the best way to win is to fight quick and dirty. The weapon greatly improves the wielder’s ability to trip, feint, grapple, pin, disarm, sunder, push and shove his opponents. Whenever the wielder successfully attacks a target, instead of rolling damage he can choose to deal the minimum result possible on his weapon damage roll (Like a 1 on a d8) and immediately attempt to make one of the previously mentioned combat maneuvers checks against the target and gain advantage on the roll. These follow the standard rules within the game system for resolving combat maneuvers and if none exist see Note. —Note: This also affects additional damage dice from critical hits but not die from other sources such as divine smite, sneak attack or spell effects. If your system doesn’t have rules for a contesting combat maneuvers, use this: The wielder declares the maneuver and chooses to make either a Strength or Dexterity check (With advantage because of the enchantment) which is contested against the target’s Strength or Dexterity check (Target chooses the ability to use). If the wielder has the higher result, the target falls prone, disarmed of one object they’re holding, knocked back five feet, grappled, etc. If the target wins the contest, there is no effect and the action is consumed without effect. Recommended for melee weapons only, although certain throwing weapons or ammunition such as bolas or arrows designed to disarming or tripping could certainty be beneficial to a PC.
Bloodlust: The mindless rage of a rabid beast is infused into the weapon’s battered and dented form. Layers upon layers of old bloodstains cover the weapon’s length and cant come off with soap or magic.  In combat the wielder feels the primal energy of unmitigated rage flood through their mind and throws aside all pretense of accuracy to strike with as much force as physically possible. The wielder always suffers disadvantage on attack rolls made with the weapon. Whenever the wielder successfully attacks a target, instead of rolling damage he automatically deals the maximum result possible for the weapon damage die (Like a 8 on a d8).  —Note: This also affects additional damage dice from critical hits but not die from other sources such as divine smite, sneak attack or spell effects. Not recommended for ammunition.
Diligent: The weapon was painstakingly made with no expense or effort spared in any part of its construction. Its esoteric counterparts match its mundane exceptionalism and the enchantments are layered over top of each other creating multiple redundant arcane systems of charms that tap into the wielder’s mind guiding the weapon to pinpoint accuracy. While powerful in theory, the sheer amount of sorcery bound within the item requires it to sap the wielder’s strength as fuel, causing the blows to be precise but weak. The weapon is better suited to sport fencing, than life or death combat but its better to land a pitiful blow than none at all. The wielder always gains advantage on attack rolls made with the weapon. Whenever the wielder successfully attacks a target, instead of rolling damage he automatically deals the minimum result possible for the weapon damage die (Like a 1 on a d8).  —Note: This also affects additional damage dice from critical hits but not die from other sources such as divine smite, sneak attack or spell effects.
Carnage: A detailed scene of a pitched battle with dozens of dead Random Creature Types on both sides was painstakingly etched along the business end of the weapon’s business end. Whenever the weapon is held, the bearer’s mouth is filled with a coppery, iron taste of fresh blood and he breathes in the heady scent of the same. The wielder’s yearns to slaughter the species displayed on the weapon’s length and whenever he kills a creature of that type he experiences potent euphoric sensations. The weapon functions as a +1 against the creature type etched into the weapon. Whenever the wielder scores a critical hit, the etched battle scene changes so that all of the dead and dying figures are changed to match target’s creature type.
Extermination: The symbol of a Random Creature Type skull over a pair of crossed bones is deeply carved into the weapon’s grip. The wielder experiences a strange unnatural calm while holding the weapon, as if all of their empathy, understanding and compassion was burned away by the cold genocidal rage that fills their heart. A creature actively holding the weapon acts with brutal rationalism with a personal goal to take the life of every being of the species that match’s the skull symbol on the weapon’s grip. All of these emotional changes fade the moment the weapon is not being actively held and while the feelings are powerful, they never force the wielder to violate any of his strongly held moral standards. The weapon functions as a +1 against the creature type carved into the weapon. Whenever the wielder lands the killing blow on a creature, the skull on the weapon’s grip changed to match the target’s creature type.
Flaming Burst: The weapon is fashioned from smoldering materials and the symbol of a tongue of flame is branded into the grip. Embers still crackle and burn in the charred wooden components and metallic parts have cherry red business ends with tiny rivulets of liquid metal trailing along the weapon’s length. The entire object is surrounded by a wavy heat mirage and although the weapon feels warm to the touch, it is never hot enough to damage a creature who simply holds it, nor will the weapon ignite objects on contact. The weapon’s fiery power deal burning injuries that scorch the skin and leave charred, smoldering corpses in the wielder’s wake. When used in combat, the wielder’s hands become coated in a fine layer of ashes and the constrained elemental power trapped within the weapon threatens to burst outward with every attack, only finally exploding outward in a show of devastating power on truly lethal strikes. Whenever the wielder scores a critical hit, the weapon releases a fiery burst dealing additional fire damage equivalent to a shortsword (1d6) to the target and all enemies within five feet of to the target. Projectile ranged weapons will ignite their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Freezing Burst: The weapon is fashioned from frigid materials and the symbol of a snowflake is carved into the frost on the grip. The frozen implement never melts or cracks, even in the fiercest of heat but will mist and emit water vapor in warm temperatures. Although the object feels cold to the touch, the ice never freezes material it touches or cause frostbite in its wielder. The weapon’s icy magics create rime rimmed wounds that leak slushy, half frozen blood from blackened, frostbitten flesh. When used in combat, the wielder’s hands become coated in a fine layer of frost (Which deals no damage and melts normally) and the constrained elemental power trapped within the weapon threatens to burst outward with every attack, only finally exploding outward in a show of devastating power on truly lethal strikes. Whenever the wielder scores a critical hit, the weapon releases a freezing burst dealing additional cold damage equivalent to a shortsword (1d6) to the target and all enemies within five feet of to the target. Projectile ranged weapons will freeze their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Caustic Burst: The weapon is fashioned from significantly damaged materials and the symbol of a partially dissolved hand is acid etched into the grip. Any metallic parts of the weapon are pitted, corroded and covered in rust and wooden components are stained, acid burned and generally discolored. The object is rough and sharp to the touch, leaving the wielder’s hands rust stained and blemished as if exposed to a weak acid. Sizable pieces of rust occasionally flake off of the weapon, disintegrating when they hit the ground but the object never seems to reduce in size or weight no matter how much is lost. The weapon’s acidic properties dissolve the target’s flesh, leaving caustic, chemically burned corpses that reek of acerbic solvents. The constrained elemental power trapped within the weapon threatens to burst outward with every attack, only finally exploding outward in a show of devastating power on truly lethal strikes. Whenever the wielder scores a critical hit, the weapon releases a caustic burst dealing additional acid damage equivalent to a shortsword (1d6) to the target and all enemies within five feet of to the target. Projectile ranged weapons will contaminate their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Shocking Burst: The weapon is heavily accented with electrically conductive materials and the symbol of a lightning bolt is prominently displayed on the copper wire grip. The weapon flickers with jolts of power (Never harmful or distracting to the bearer) and discharges small static shocks on a regular basis and when held this property extends to the bearer as well, causing their hair to stand on end and small arcs of electricity to jump between fingers and strands of hair. When actively being used in combat, the electricity charges and discharges faster as the weapon audible crackles and violently sparks. The weapon’s conductive nature directs lethal jolts of power directly into the target’s body, shocking the delicate nervous system and leaving smoking, flash burned skin. The constrained elemental power trapped within the weapon threatens to burst outward with every attack, only finally exploding outward in a show of devastating power on truly lethal strikes. Whenever the wielder scores a critical hit, the weapon releases an electrical storm dealing additional lighting damage equivalent to a shortsword (1d6) to the target and all enemies within five feet of to the target. Projectile ranged weapons will charge their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Psychokinetic Burst: The grip of the weapon is formed not of wood, leather or metal but rather of corded brain tissue that has been wrapped around the handle. The grip feels damp and squishy beneath the wielders grip as if the grey matter was still fresh. A knowledgeable PC will be able to determine that the brain tissues come from a number of different creatures who all had psionic, telepathic, telekinetic or other powerful mental abilities. Bearers who hold the weapon for long periods of time or attack with it, experience fleeting mental flashbacks of lives they never lived, as the memories locked away in the preserved brains leak into the wielder. The weapon’s psionic power attacks its victim’s very psyche, mutilating their mind, exterminating their ego and brutalizing their brain. The constrained mental power trapped within the weapon threatens to burst outward with every attack, only finally exploding outward in a show of devastating power on truly lethal strikes. Whenever the wielder scores a critical hit, the weapon releases a psychokinetic burst dealing additional psychic damage equivalent to a shortsword (1d6) to the target and all enemies within five feet of to the target. Projectile ranged weapons will enhance their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Thunderous Burst: An unassuming weapon that vibrates and emits audible tones at the slightest disturbance. A steel tuning fork is seamlessly incorporated into the weapon’s form typically with the handle and two prongs serving as the weapon’s grip and pommel. When actively being used in combat, the reverberations of the weapon’s swings, successful blows and the wielder’s own pounding heartbeats are magnified and stored by the tuning fork, building up small shock waves of violent thunderous power that are discharged directly into the wielder’s foes. The weapon’s sonic vibrations change match the resonance frequency of its target, causing blows that splinter bone, rupture eardrums and explode hearts. The reverberating power trapped within the weapon threatens to burst outward with every attack, only finally exploding outward in a show of devastating power on truly lethal strikes. Whenever the wielder scores a critical hit, the weapon releases a thunderous burst dealing additional thunder damage equivalent to a shortsword (1d6) to the target and all enemies within five feet of to the target. Projectile ranged weapons will vibrate their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Arcane Blast: The once whole weapon has been shattered into dozens if not hundreds of pieces and about half of them are missing completely. The object still serves as a perfectly serviceable weapon, as the remaining pieces are being held together in a transparent field of solid magic, not unlike pieces of fruit in a clear, jelly cake. The weapon’s arcane binding reinforces the weapon’s lethal potential, causing injury caused not by blade or bludgeon but of pure magical force. Foes are blasted by eldritch power that bypasses most physical and supernatural defenses to kill in the most direct way possible. The constrained esoteric power trapped within the weapon threatens to burst outward with every attack, only finally exploding outward in a show of devastating power on truly lethal strikes. Whenever the wielder scores a critical hit, the weapon releases an explosive blast dealing additional force damage equivalent to a shortsword (1d6) to the target and all enemies within five feet of to the target. Projectile ranged weapons will sheath their ammunition in magic when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Toxic Spray: The business end of the weapon sports a number of pinprick sized holes and a single inland taipan fang is embedded into the grip. The hypodermic snake fang’s point aims along the length of the weapon and a perceptive PC can actually see bloated drops of neurotoxins resting at the pinprick sized venom channels at the business end. The wielder feels an unpleasant warm tingling sensation in their weapon hand, as if a fraction of the venomous power somehow penetrated their skin. The weapon’s toxins are injected directly into its victim’s flesh, coagulating the blood, paralyzing muscle and necrotizing the once healthy tissue. The constrained virulent power trapped within the weapon threatens to burst outward with every attack, only finally exploding outward in a show of devastating power on truly lethal strikes. Whenever the wielder scores a critical hit, the weapon releases a toxic burst dealing additional poison damage equivalent to a shortsword (1d6) to the target and all enemies within five feet of to the target. Projectile ranged weapons will envenom their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Desecrating Burst: The weapon’s grip is wrapped in dark purple leather from which a network of thin black veins extend outward. If the weapon is ever stained, nicked, dented or covered in blood or gore, a number of the dark veins slowly shift to that area. They seem to absorb the imperfections, damages and filth into the weapon’s form, like the roots of a plants soaking up water, causing the object to feel the slightest bit heavier and more lethal. When held, the bearer’s mind is filled with dark thoughts of cruelty, senseless violence and causing harm to innocents. The wielder is instilled with the certainty that everything in life or death is theirs to command if they can shrug off their ethical and moral compunctions and reach out and take what they want by force. The weapon’s perverse energies deal unnatural injuries that foul the flesh and stain the soul. The constrained blighting power trapped within the weapon threatens to burst outward with every attack, only finally exploding outward in a show of devastating power on truly lethal strikes. Whenever the wielder scores a critical hit, the weapon releases a desecrating burst dealing additional necrotic damage equivalent to a shortsword (1d6) to the target and all enemies within five feet of to the target. Projectile ranged weapons will taint their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Holy Burst: The weapon’s grip is wrapped in perpetually pure white linen from which a network of thin golden veins extend outward. No matter its circumstances, the weapon remains absolutely pristine, free of nicks, dents, stains, blood, gore and dirt, remaining perfect and pure. When held, the bearer’s mind is filled with thoughts of redemption, righteous vindication and protecting the innocent. The wielder is imparted with a strong sense of good and evil and the desire to see justice done and the corruption of the world washed away. The weapon’s divine power purges impurities by searing the skin and scorching the soul. Whenever the wielder scores a critical hit, the weapon releases a holy burst dealing additional radiant damage equivalent to a shortsword (1d6) to the target and all enemies within five feet of to the target. Projectile ranged weapons will bless their ammunition when shot, bestowing the enchantment upon their ammunition for the turn that it’s fired.
Zephyr: The symbol of a whirlwind has been marked into the grip of the weapon. The weapon is far lighter than it should be and currents of wind constantly swirl around it as if waiting to be directed to battle. The bearer can wield the weapon as normal in battle or they can choose to channel the wind, sending powerful gusts of air squalling across the field of battle. While these zephyrs are impressive, they’re not nearly as lethal as the weapon's actual business end. As part of an attack, the wielder can active the weapon's areomancy to extend the reach of the melee weapon by 30 feet in order to attack a creature they can see. Whenever the wielder attacks in this way and hits, instead of rolling damage he automatically deals the minimum result possible for the weapon damage die (Like a 1 on a d8). Otherwise the wielder can still makes regular attacks within weapon's standard reach and roll damage as normal. —Note: Extending the reach of the weapon through this enchantment uses the same rules as if using a reach weapon such as a halberd or whip. This enchantment also affects additional damage dice from critical hits but not dice from other sources such as divine smite, sneak attack or spell effects. Recommended for melee weapons
Riven: A once fine, powerful weapon that has suffered heavy damage in countless battles. The pristine arcane rune of power that resides in the weapon’s grip once burned with supernatural intensity, but has been marred by combat, dulled by time and weakened by dispelling effects, reducing it fitfully glowing like a candle in a breeze. The rune is performing an admirable attempt of keeping the weapon supernaturally lethal and precise, but the task is too strenuous and the enchantment will fail regularly and without warning. Whenever the wielder makes an attack or damage roll with the weapon and the result is an odd number, the wielder adds +1 to the result and that attack is considered magical for the purposes of overcoming resistances, damage reduction and other defenses.
Inspiring: A distinctive weapon with the words of a particularly heartening adage (Random Motto) displayed in delicate calligraphy along its length, the text changing of its own volition to best encourage its wielder. Whenever the weapon is grasped, the words flow like poetry into the bearer’s mind as if long forgotten but suddenly remembered. Wielding it is combat makes one feel not unlike a flagbearer leading the charge into battle and the wielders actions and shouts rally allies around him like a hero out of song and story, inspiring them to greatness. Whenever the wielder successfully attacks with the weapon, he can choose one ally who can see or hear him within 30 feet and that creature adds 1d4 to the result of the next attack roll or saving throw it makes before the start of the wielder’s next turn.
Rallying: A distinctive weapon with the words of a particularly heartening adage (Random Motto) displayed in delicate calligraphy along its length, the text changing of its own volition to best encourage its wielder. Whenever the weapon is grasped, the words flow like poetry into the bearer’s mind as if long forgotten but suddenly remembered. Wielding it is combat makes one feel not unlike a flagbearer leading the charge into battle and the wielders actions and shouts rally allies around him like a hero out of song and story, inspiring them to greatness. Rallying: Whenever the wielder scores a critical hit, an ally of the wielder's choice within 30 feet who can see or hear him gains temporary hit points equal to a longsword's worth of damage (1d8) plus the wielder's character level. These temporary hit points are lost after one minute.
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seandunkley · 4 years ago
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Hi not to be weird but,, would u mind sharing more abt Maxwell? I adore him I gotta know everything abt him, esp his height.... gotta know if hes massive or a manlet
(ง •̀ω•́)ง✧! I will gladly share more about Maxwell! Firstly, he’s a solid 9ft in height (Although now that you bring it up, a miniature version of him would be awesome!] Originally a warforged fighter along with his two brothers, he was part of a fort garrison several decades before the campaign story starts. At some point not long after, the fort was sieged by an opposing army.  The details remain hazy in his mind, but all he remembers is losing his comrades, brothers and being one of the few survivors of the attack, although it left him immobilized and with only one functioning arm.  Whatever occurred, it had instilled an unfathomable fear in him that he associates with this failure. The story of the garrison's ‘miraculous’ survival becomes a local legend, and the remains of the fort are turned into a shrine to Dol Arrah.  Maxwell himself remains operational and over time he became known as ‘The Oracle’, due to his penchant for conversation and his rather odd appearance.
The shrine itself develops into a rather profitable tourist attraction for pilgrims seeking Dol Arrah’s guidance. During this time, he is befriended by an elf cleric named Azalea who teaches him basic magics and keeps him company, eventually allowing him to become a paladin. Although not of the religious sort per se, he really resonated with the message of being a protector. It wasn’t the most exciting time of his life, but he was content with the attention and learning about the random woes of the surrounding populace. He also manages to accumulate an astounding amount of moss, ferns, and mushrooms that seem to grow readily on his stone body. Fast forward several more years, Azalea had to leave due to her clashing with the local administrators and what she deduced as the exploitation of Max for the shrine’s financial gain.  This plants a seed of wanderlust in Max’s mind, and hopes to travel the world and maybe to be reunited with Azalea. Cue a familiar firbolg druid showing up one day at the shrine: Swindle had dropped by to witness the so-called ‘Oracle’ seeing as he was accumulating religious relics.  Knowing full well about the rather dubious con-like nature of the shrine owners [being a con artist himself], he strikes up a friendship with Maxwell. Out of sheer curiosity, Swindle casts a small spell on Max which inadvertently caused him to regain the use of all his limbs.  Neither of them knew how or why, but they took the opportunity to hightail it out of the shrine, leaving it in a rather abysmal state. And so began their adventure into the Land of Smoke & Cinders! [A lot happens here since the campaign has been going on for almost two years.  Friendships are made, the party grows, some are lost, etc.] Relatively recently, he has been attempting to learn more about his past that seems intertwined with an ancient elven civilization that, for lack of a better explanation, ‘blew itself up’, leaving artifacts and technology like Max in its wake. Phew, alright, that was more writing than expected, but thank you so much for showing interest in my rock child <3!
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joezworld · 4 years ago
Text
Fools in Love (5/10)
James And The Diesel Engine
1978
When 46 040 had declared that she would become friends with James, nobody in the sheds had really believed it.
James was vain, occasionally pompous, and immensely suspicious of diesel traction. It was a minor miracle that Bear and BoCo had been accepted by him, and Gordon speculated that it was due to the fact that neither engine was in a role that would displace the red engine.
040 on the other wheel, was in direct competition with him - right down to her shiny red paint. The big diesel had been eager to prove her worth, and had gladly accepted any work that the Fat Controller had given her. This meant that for most of the past year, there had been two red mixed traffic engines on Sodor.
Naturally, James was quite upset by this - he felt that he was being supplanted instead of supported, and tried valiantly to make 040 go away.
Unfortunately for James, 040 was determined to make a friend out of him, and treated him and everyone else with an almost impenetrable level of charm and good cheer that soon ingratiated herself with the other engines.
“She is of good stock.” Gordon said when she came up in discussion.
“A hard worker” was Duck’s assessment.
“Aye, if more diesels were like ‘er, the other railway would work a treat!” This from Douglas - high praise considering his well established and totally understandable dislike of diesels.
When he first met 040, he’d growled at her to ‘stay away’, and after a moment’s reflection, she’d apologized.
“What MPD were you at?” She’d asked after he’d growled at her.
“Glasgow - Eastfield.” He’d replied after a confused moment.
“Yeah, that figures.” She sighed ruefully. “I’m sorry, by the way. They only had enough of the “I hate steam engine” bits for the 45s, so us 46s and 44s never quite understood why everyone was so eager to replace you. Well, everyone except Spamcan, but he’s an arse to everyone.”
“Aye?” Douglas was very surprised.
“Of course. We tried to make them be nice - they certainly didn’t need to be so vicious about it - but once they know you care - well, it’s said that you can smell weakness in someone’s exhaust, so we weren’t treated much better than you were.”
“I... had no idea. Do they truly do that? There’s no’ even unity amongst diesels?”
“Not a whit. At least, not in the Midlands. Don’t worry though - they’re getting what’s coming to them. All three of us Peak classes are ‘non-standard’ now, so they’ll see what it’s like to be on the wrong side of progress soon enough.” Her tone was not light, but neither was it overly dark. She clearly had private opinions on the subject that she wanted to keep private. 
Douglas stared at the big diesel with newfound respect.
James soon found himself in the minority of opinions about 040. His resolve began to waver when she would cheerfully keep her composure even in the midst of a heated argument.
“You’re wrong and I can prove it!”
“How?”
“You haven’t got a boiler! You wouldn’t understand what boiler sludge feels like!”
“Ah! That’s where you’re wrong my steam-powered friend! I do have a boiler - for steam heating! I know exactly what boiler sludge feels like!”
“Cinders and Ashes you are impossible! Why are you so cheerful?!”
“I like arguing with you Jamie, it’s fun!”
“Jamie??!”
-----
One morning, the Fat Controller arrived in the sheds with some important news:
“The Thin Clergyman and his son will be visiting the island once again!” He declared cheerfully.
The engines were surprised. “I thought that he had retired from writing?” Gordon said.
“He has,” explained the Fat Controller. “But his son has decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and will be writing books of his own.”
Most of the engines were excited, but 040 was decidedly not. As soon as the Fat Controller left, her face fell into an uncharacteristic scowl. “I am not appearing in those fucking books.” She said menacingly.
This was arguably more surprising than the news of the Thin Clergyman’s arrival.
“Whyever not?” Asked Henry, who was quite pleased to have stories written about him.
“None of you know this,” She grimaced. “But the only more damaging thing than those books was the fucking Beeching Report! When he wrote about that 08 that tried to cause trouble for Duck, he might as well have thrown a bomb into every yard in the country! Everyone was either saying that we diesels were evil masterminds or that steam engines were idiotic dupes! There was zero civility between engines! Friendships ended! Lives were ruined! Locomotives were scrapped over this! I wasn’t even built then and I still have been forced to deal with it!”
She laughed at the jaw-dropped stares of the other engines. None of them had been on the mainland at that time, and they had no idea of the trouble that had gone on.
“And then there’s one-nine-nine! That nincompoop has gotten every one of us Peaks called a Spamcan! And that’s impressive considering there’s three different classes of us! I didn’t even know what Spam was before that book!”
Silence fell over the sheds for a good while.
“I had no idea...” Gordon eventually said in a small voice.
“I know.” 040 said as she slowly regained her cheery demeanor. “And that’s okay. But I really do not want to be in the books.”
“What’s this about books?” James had been out on an early stopper train, and had missed everything.
“Oh nothing Jamie, do you want to have an argument?”
“No! and stop calling me that!”
“Great! So I think we are actually having an argument right now, but what’s your take on it...?”
-----
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The Thin Clergyman arrived onboard Gordon’s express, and was given a warm welcome by the Fat Controller at Tidmouth. Fortunately for 040, Gordon had been able to pass the word on with an earlier train, and she was able to flee the station before the author arrived.
The next week of her life was not unlike a scene from the Benny Hill Show - wherever 040 went, the Thin Clergyman and his son followed.
She ran a parcels train to Barrow - the Thin Clergyman was waiting on the next platform,
She hid behind the Works, only to find his Son riding on Skarloey’s footplate,
At Haltraugh she tried to hide behind Duck - with exactly as much success as one would expect,
The two men starting interviewing engines in the shed, and she was forced to hide amongst the coaches in the yard,
Thomas’ driver unexpectedly fell ill at Tidmouth, and she leapt at the chance to take his train - despite being longer than Annie and Clarabel put together! She made it as far as Elsbridge before curious trainspotters began flocking to take her picture, and she beat a hasty retreat to the main line just before the Clergyman arrived,
The engines at the Kirk Ronan branch were quite annoyed when she tried to squeeze into their shed - she was so big that the door wouldn’t shut!
Planned track work meant that one of the Ballahoo tunnels was closed, and she bluffed her way onto the work train so she could sleep in it. This was an effective hiding spot, until she told Henry, who laughed so loudly that the Thin Clergyman heard the entire story from across the yard,
She even tried sleeping in the electric branch sheds at Peel Godred, but was not only glared at by the very antisocial locomotives who lived there, but also had to hide from both the Thin Clergyman and His Son when they came to see the Culdee Fell Railway.
Finally, there was nowhere left to run - she had managed to find all of these hiding spots while still doing her jobs, but today she was the ‘relief’ engine at Knapford, which meant that she had to sit in the yard all day in case another engine failed.
In full view of the station building.
At midday,  James bustled in with a load of vans for Thomas’ branch line.
“What are you so anxious about?” He asked 040 with a mixture of scorn and surprise. The annoying red diesel was looking positively frantic as her eyes scanned the station building. It was most unlike her.
“Jamie! Hide me!” She hissed as James’ driver uncoupled the vans.
“What?”
“Hide me! Quickly!”
“Why?”
“The Clergyman! He’s right there in the station!”
James looked over, and sure enough, the Thin Clergyman and his son were sitting down to lunch in the station café. “Why?”
“Because he might write something about me!” 040 was frantic.
James was baffled, but remembered Gordon mentioning something about some engines not wanting to be written about. He’d assumed that Edward was just being introverted again, but perhaps there was more to it than that...
He was tempted to do the exact opposite - to blow his whistle, attract attention, and pay back the loudmouth diesel for all of her arguments and nicknames, but when he looked back at her, he realized that 040 was frightened of the Thin Clergyman.
James was many things, but sadistic wasn’t one of them, and he ran around his train and shunted the vans so that 040 was almost entirely obscured from sight.
“Thank you!” She whispered as he backed away.
“Keep it dark,”  He hissed back. “I have a reputation to uphold. And I’ll try and draw his attention to me so he doesn’t go looking for you.”
“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem for you.” She said with a small smile. “You always are the centre of attention!”
James smiled back as he backed into the yard proper, doing his best to make as much noise as he could until he came to a stop at the far end of the yard - as far away from 040 as possible.
His plan worked flawlessly. The Clergyman and his son had been so engrossed in their meal that they hadn’t noticed that any engine was there at all, and quickly made their way across the yard.
Unlike 040, James was always pleased to have someone write about him, and spent the better part of an hour answering the Clergyman’s questions.
“There was one other thing I wanted to know, James.” The Clergyman’s son said after a while. “We’ve been told that there’s a new diesel on the Island, but we can’t seem to find him anywhere!”
“Her.” James corrected before he could stop himself.
“Her?”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “Yes. She’s a girl, and she’s quite shy.”
“Really?” The Clergyman said as he scribbled in his notebook. “Can you tell me about her? Or where she is?”
“I don’t want to talk about anyone behind their back...” James said, knowing exactly how often he did just that. “But I saw her going to the works a few hours ago. You might be able to find her there and ask her yourself.”
This pleased the Clergyman and his Son, and they immediately set off in their hire car for the works. James waited until they had vanished from sight before he called out: “They’re gone!”
“Thank God!” 040 shouted from across the yard.
“Don’t thank him! Thank me!” James called back.
“Thank you James! Really, I owe you one now.” James couldn’t see the diesel, but he could somehow tell that she was smiling.
----
040′s luck finally ran out on the last day of the Clergyman’s trip. She was rostered to pull the night express, and didn’t realize that the Thin Clergyman was going to be on board. She almost jumped off the rails when she saw him climbing the stairs to the platform, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when he entered the train, and her face fell when she realized that he was merely putting away his luggage before he got out of the train and walked up to her.
“Hello there! I haven’t seen you before!” He said jovially while admiring her paint and stripes.
“I’m new.” She said, trying to keep her tone somewhat polite. The ugly anger rising in the pit of her engine block was making that a very hard thing to do.
“I can see that - you have been quite hard to find!”
“Have I?”
“Very much so, but nevermind that. I was wondering if you would be willing to let myself and my son write about you? You see, we write books abou-”
“I know what your books are about.”
“Oh you do?” The Thin Clergyman said, not missing the sudden undertone in the diesel’s voice.
“Oh yes. And I’m not even talking about Spamcan.” She smiled viciously as the Thin Clergyman winced at that reference.
“Yes, well-”
“I’m not done. I'm talking about the other book you wrote. About the 08? The one that got more than a few engines killed?”
“What?” The author recoiled at the now-undisguised venom in 040′s voice.
“Of course you don’t know. You don’t care about diesels, just your precious steam engines.” She glared at him with undisguised malice. “Do me a favor - take that notebook and go fuck yourself with it - I will never be in one of your books.”
As she said that, the signal dropped, and the guard - who couldn’t see the Clergyman due to a porter’s trolley in the way - blew his whistle.
040 set off immediately, leaving the Thin Clergyman standing on the platform, taking his baggage with her.
-
When the Clergyman’s son started publishing his books several years later, 040 was nowhere to be seen in any of them.
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closetfanfictionauthor · 3 years ago
Text
in which matthias does not pick up any hints and nina decides to push him to the edge so he'll make a move.
Matthias Helvar was very much infatuated with one Nina Zenik. Nina knew it. Her customers at her coffee shop knew it. Their friends knew it. Their professors knew it. The university librarians knew it. Matthias didn't.
Men.
But Nina had the patience of a saint and so she waited. For days. Weeks. Months.
It's important to note that while Nina had the patience of a saint, she was not a saint herself. And she wasn't interested in waiting until she was an old maid before Matthias realized the filthy things she would let him do to her.
And so she took things into her own hands in a very much Nina fashion.
A small dose of jealousy was good for all men, as far as she was concerned. Matthias deserved a larger helping than she normally recommended for the frustration he'd worked her into over the past few months.
Her first partner in crime in her endeavour was one Kaz Brekker, a poor choice, but Nina had to start somewhere. For one, he didn't smile. Or wink. Or do much of anything with his face. In fact, in all the times Nina had known Kaz, she was quite sure she'd never seen him express any sort of emotion.
The first attempt occurred on a Monday while she was working at her cafe. Nina's boss had been warned in advance of what she was doing and had gladly turned a blind eye.
"As long as we're making money, do what you want Nina dear," they'd said and disappeared.
Matthias was sitting at a table in the middle of the room, in direct view of Nina, while she was working behind her counter. His gaze had passed over Kaz when he'd strutted into the shop and then pinned the man in place after five minutes passed and he was still at the front with Nina.
And then his gaze passed over Nina and Kaz after ten minutes had passed and Kaz was still there.
"Kaz, I'm begging you here. You gotta give me something to work with," Nina gritted out through her wide smile. She batted her eyelashes at Kaz and trailed one hand over his arm and up to fiddle with the collar of his shirt. Kaz tensed underneath her touch. His breath came a little shorter, and if she wasn't as close to him as she was, Nina would've missed the slight changes herself. She could, however, see Matthias tense out of the corner of her eye.
"I'm not an especially funny man," Kaz replied in that even tone of his.
"Boy, I'll say," Nina said. "You know how talented I have to be to act as if you've told me the funniest joke in the world. Come on, try for me."
Kaz was unmoved.
"I'll give you five kruge?"
A slow blink.
"It'll make Matthias want to kill you?"
Between Nina inhaling and exhaling, Kaz transformed into a different man right before her eyes. The tension melted from his always stiff shoulders. Gone was his military straight posture, instead bending towards Nina.
"Should've started with that, Nina darling," Kaz said, his voice suddenly two octaves lower. Paired with the lopsided smile that spread across Kaz's face, and Nina was left momentarily speechless.
"That's-that's…wow," Nina stuttered. "Is this what Inej has to put up with?"
"Only on very special occasions. I don't like to smile. It contorts the face unnecessarily," Kaz replied, his regular sternness appearing briefly before he pushed it away again.
"Where is Inej?" Nina asked as she trailed her fingers across her collarbone, a move she knew regularly worked on men to attract their notice downwards. Kaz's eyes stayed firmly focused on her face.
"She's got an exam for international law coming up that she's studying for in the library," Kaz replied. "Which reminds me, I have a group project to work on."
"What about your other group members, surely they can manage without you," Nina said as she flicked back her hair, a move that brought attention to her chest. She could feel the heat from Matthias's glare all the way across the shop. She couldn't help but grin even wider.
A sharp crack caught the attention of everyone in the room. Kaz turned around and Nina looked over his shoulder to see Matthias at his table. Pencil snapped in half. He let out a string of swears as he grabbed his bag and aggressively rifled through it, looking for a new pencil to write with.
Kaz turned back to her as if nothing had happened and leaned over Nina to whisper in her ear as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger and giggled. "This project is worth half my mark and if those imbeciles I'm forced to call partner's cock it up, I'm going to have them buried somewhere no one will find them."
"If this is what Inej is subjected to, I don't envy her," Nina said, leaning in to whisper into Kaz's ear. She never knew what Kaz would've said in response because at that moment Matthias pushed back his chair with a loud scrape, slung his bag over his shoulder, glaring at Kaz the whole time, and marched out the front door.
Kaz leaned back, one arm braced against the counter as he watched Matthias's large back retreating. "I think my work is done here. Always a pleasure working with you Zenik."
***
Matthias was a creature of habit, which was unfortunate for him, as Nina had his routine memorized and used it to her advantage.
Jesper proved a much more enthusiastic actor. But then again, Jesper regularly irritated everyone to distraction, so it wasn't much of a stretch.
Nina was seated facing the entry to the library, where she knew any second Matthias would walk through the door. Jesper right on cue came dashing into the library, made sure to knock into Matthias on his way in, and then bounded over to Nina. Matthias was still glaring after Jesper's back when the boy in question slung an arm across Nina's shoulder and kissed her on the cheek, dangerously close to her mouth, before taking the seat next to her.
She saw Matthias freeze where he was as he stared at the two of them. Nina threw back her head and let out a laugh as Jesper slouched in his seat, his other arm thrown across her shoulders, pulling her into his side.
"I didn't know you had such a performance in you," Nina said.
"I dare you to find someone out there who wouldn't jump at the opportunity to piss off Matthias," Jesper replied.
Nina made a big show of looking around and then acting as if she'd spotted Matthias. She gave him her biggest smile and waved him over. He stared at her for so long she was almost certain he would turn around and ignore her. But eventually, with the air of a man who had cinder blocks tied to his feet, Matthias stomped over to their table and let his bag slide off his shoulder.
She pretended to giggle as if Jesper had said something hilarious. "Be nice, he's just gruff."
Jesper nuzzled into the crook of her neck, smiling against her skin and whispered, "He's an idiot."
"He is not and you know it," Nina said, trying not to let her temper rise.
"He still hasn't figured out you're mad for him," Jesper pointed out.
"Not everyone is a flirt like we are."
"Matthias!" Jesper exclaimed with a wide grin as the broad-shouldered man violently pulled out the chair across from them and sat down. Jesper had a hand on Nina's neck and was gently massaging the tense muscles there.
Matthias gave a grunt in response. His eyes locked on Jesper's hand as it kneaded Nina's soft skin.
Jesper acted as if he hadn't noticed, and kept going. Jesper could've declared he planned to plant an explosive in the library, and he doubted Matthias would've heard him.
"My da's coming to visit," Jesper said.
"Mhmm," Matthias agreed.
"I figured I might show him around the city."
"Hmm."
"And did I forget to mention I'm getting married!"
"Congratulations."
"I was thinking of having it on a floating barge going down the river."
"Wow."
"Kaz might even agree to wear a dress."
"Definitely."
"Although of course I'll have to skin a bag full of kittens before he'll do it."
"Necessary yes."
Jesper kept going as Matthias refused to look away from Nina's neck. Jesper's hand moved across her shoulders, kneading at the skin there. Nina let out a sigh. Matthias stiffened in his seat.
"Maybe I should accompany you when you show your dad around," Nina said in a breathy voice, her head tilting as Jesper continued to knead. Matthias's eyes were hungry as they roved over her neck. Jesper's grin widened as he imagined Matthias was likely becoming very uncomfortable right about now.
Jesper leaned in close to her face so that Matthias had no choice but to look at him and said, "You know, maybe you're right Nina darling, hospitality is most certainly," and here his gaze wandered down to her exposed cleavage and then locked on Matthias, "one of your stronger assets."
There was a small crack as Matthias broke off a piece of the wooden table.
"Mmm," Nina agreed and let her head fall back, exposing her throat and closing her eyes. The look on Matthias's face when it snapped to the smug look on Jesper's face was murderous. If looks could kill, Jesper reckoned he would've already been gruesomely dismembered.
If only Matthias wasn't such an honest man, people wouldn't make it a hobby to get under his skin. He leaned forward and looked to be about three seconds away from lunging across the table and wrapping his large hands around Jesper's skinny neck.
And everything probably would've de-escalated if Nina, in that moment, hadn't moaned while her head was back and said, "that's the spot Jesper, yes."
Jesper and Matthias were banned from the library for the rest of the semester.
***
There were not enough words to describe the level of irritation that Nina had reached. How much farther was she going to be forced to go with Matthias before he finally snapped? The man was constantly on the edge of giving in and doing what she knew he wanted as much as her, and yet he just wouldn't give in.
She had to get more drastic. And if this attempt didn't work, then Nina was going to jump him in his bed in the middle of the night. Enough was enough. A girl needed release, and he was going to give it to her, screw his honour.
It took place in a club. The music was thumping. Nina could feel it vibrating in her bones, and could barely make out the words that Wylan was yelling. It was too dark to see much of anything, but Nina made sure she would be easy to spot when Matthias eventually found them.
"Nina, I don't think this is a good idea," Wylan yelled, as his eyes darted around anxiously.
"I'm not asking you to have sex with me right here in front of everyone," Nina yelled back.
"I still don't like it, Nina. I mean, have you seen Matthias," Wylan replied. "The man could snap me in half."
"You let me worry about Matthias. Now touch my boob, Wylan."
"Isn't there something else I could do instead?" Wylan asked desperately, his eyes glancing back to the door to the men's bathroom.
"Wylan."
"Can't I just put my hands on your waist?"
"Touch the boob."
"Nina-"
"You said you were willing to help make him jealous, didn't you?" Nina demanded.
"I mean, yes-"
"Then touch my titty. It's just a boob, Wylan, I'm not asking you to marry me here. Just cup the boob."
Nina clamped her hand down on Wylan's neck and yanked him down until his forehead was resting against hers. She placed one hand of hisi on the small of her back and the other on her waist.
"Nina, he'll be back any minute," Wylan hissed.
"That's the point."
And bless Matthias, for the man always seemed to be on cue, even though he didn't know it. In that moment he exited the bathroom. And because Nina could sense the presence of that man like it was her sixth sense, she only had time to tell Wylan, "I'll make it up to you," and then gently pressed her lips to his.
The poor boy gave a start in surprise, but Nina had a steel grip on his neck and kept him in place. It was dark enough that Matthias couldn't see Nina speak against Wylan's lips and tell him, "Now take the hand at my waist and slowly slide it up to my boob."
"Nina, I can feel him stripping the skin from my body with his eyes," Wylan responded against her lips. Nina could do nothing but hum in agreement, as loudly as she could, to make sure Matthias heard it. Wylan's hand moved at a snail's pace from the swell of her hips, past the dip of her waist, and up to her breast, where he hesitated for a moment before finally letting it rest on the swell.
"You owe me for this," Wylan said seconds before he was yanked off of Nina by a fuming Matthias.
"You are in public," Matthias snapped at the two of them. Wylan had his hands up in front of his chest in surrender. The second Matthias took his eyes off Wylan, the boy disappeared into the crowd. Nina couldn't help but feel smug. Triumphant.
"And what about it?" she demanded, taking a step towards Matthias.
"People can see you," he barked at her, taking a step closer.
"Good. Maybe I want people to see," Nina snapped defiantly and took another step closer until she was chest to chest with him. "Maybe I want people to think I'm spoken for."
She stared into his eyes and said, "Maybe I want to put on a show."
Matthias's pupils were already blown, but at Nina's words, they overtook what little colour was left of his irises. He stiffened, but couldn't stop the urge to sway towards her.
"It's inappropriate," his voice was gravelly and lower than before.
"Is it? Or is it only inappropriate because you're the one watching instead of the one participating," Nina said, and stepped closer still until she was chest to chest with Matthias. He clenched his jaw and looked down at her, unable to look away as she looked him up and down and then licked her lips when her eyes met his again.
"I don't-" Matthias choked out.
"In that case, let me go find Wylan and we can pick up-" she interrupted, and abruptly turned her back on Matthias and stepped away.
She hadn't managed even a step before Matthias's arm wrapped around her waist and in the blink of an eye, Nina found her back pressed to a wall and Matthias pressed up against every inch of her front. He was bent over her, his body blocking out the rest of the club.
"No," he said with finality.
"No, what?" Nina asked. She pressed one hand to his chest, feeling the hard muscle underneath as she explored and then slowly wrapped her arm around his back, and then the other one joined until she could spread both palms on his back and pull him closer. He was so solid and so warm. Nina desperately wished they were alone and with far fewer clothes on.
"No, you're not going to Wylan," Matthias replied. He seemed equally incapable of keeping his hands off of her. His arm was still wrapped around her waist, his large hand spanned from the small of her back to her hip. Nina's heart stuttered when he gave it a squeeze, tilting her pelvis towards his and bringing her even closer.
Nina slowly slid one arm from his back, over his chest, and around his neck. "Mmm, it doesn't have to be Wylan. I can always find someone else."
"No," Matthias snapped. His free arm touched the arm wrapped around his neck, followed it to Nina's shoulder and then slid it down until his hand skimmed her breast. Nina was breathing so hard, and her heart was pounding so fast, she thought she would have a heart attack and die right there.
"Why not, you don't want me, right?" Nina breathed as she pulled herself closer still. She wasn't the only one having trouble breathing. Matthias looked as if he was about to have an asthma attack. He slid a leg in between Nina's as he gave another squeeze around the waist. Nina's breath stuttered as she gave a roll of her hips and watched a shudder pass through Matthias.
He nodded his head in agreement as his other hand covered her breast and he idly passed a thumb over her nipple. Nina gasped and couldn't stop herself from arching into him.
"You're a terrible liar, Helvar," she said breathlessly. Nina pulled him down towards her, buried her face in the small space right behind his ear, and breathed him in.
"We should...stop," Matthias panted into her neck. "We should...do this properly…"
"Matthias, if you do not take me to your room and make me forget everything except your name, the next time you catch me with a man, it's going to be even worse than Wylan," Nina threatened him. She rolled her hips one more time to drive her point home.
Nina considered herself very fortunate that Matthias was a smart man.
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