Seven blades, seven hearts,
Seven journeys, all to start
Seven stars to light the night
Evil’s bane, Hope’s delight
The Healer born, amid the dead
Hides his face, though warrior bred
The Guide, though battered, hears the call
With Raven’s voice still sings to all
The Soulless Shell, redeemed at last
Walks anew, through blood filled past
The Shield, untested, still pristine
Their eyes uncovered, at last to be seen
The Hunter, calmly views the moon
Two sides exist, the choice is soon.
The Tempest, passionate, winds of change
Forsaken of Khaos, now needs be self reined.
The Jester, the trickster, the wise old fool
Here now, then gone, obeying no rules.
The Maiden, now Mother, now Matron, as well
Three powers now woven in one woman’s shell
The last is the Teacher, the dreamer, the sage
Protector, defender, through sword and through page.
One shall rebel, and one shall die,
One find forgiveness, one learn to cry
One shall lose faith, then find it again.
One shall battle the Darkness within.
One shall know peace, ere their body grows cold
And one shall share love, long forgotten of old
Nine shall set out, only seven return
The Call has gone out, let Hope’s fire burn.
This is K’eldyr, the Sword of Mercy. Crafted by an unknown hand and given to a pacifist warrior named Richter, It is the first sword of the prophecy above. Though it is unclear whether Richter is the individual the prophecy speaks of. The weapon is clearly powerful and suited to the gentle warrior. The weapon, both blade and hilt is fashioned from silvery steel alloy with a unicorn’s horn embedded down the center of the lower portion of the blade. The grip is a soft white leather and set with rings and studs for grip with the pommel being shaped like the bud of a Firebloom plant, a plant known for it’s curative properties. It truly is a weapon in appearance only, refusing to take a life unless absolutely necessary.The Ky'ahdril, those known as the Stone Elves by humans, are a quiet but compassionate race. Knowing full well the feelings of being ostracized from those around you, these protectors have open arms to those who truly need help. Some years ago a human child was discovered by the Ky'ahdril, alone and apparently in some form of deep shock. The elves took in the young fosterling and attempted to aid him as best they could. Time past, and they succeeded in helping him heal some wounds, and the child emerged from within himself to reveal his name to them, Richter. For seven years the boy stayed with his adopted family, learning the ways of the elves as best he could, and being taught, without his realizing it, so much more about himself. Over time he grew to become a large muscular example of his race, towering over the more slender elves around him by at least a head's height and had participated in a few of the clan's rituals, resulting in a swirl of colorful tattoos that ran the length of his bare arms. Despite the care that had been given to him from his adopted home, it became clear to Richter that he needed to find his own path and place within this world and that it was not here. With a heavy heart, he left his home and began to travel the roads, soon meeting up with the first other human he had ever encountered, a mischievous bard known as Kah. It seemed that Kah had a business of sorts, moving items from city to city without the irritation of the city's law enforcers knowing of it. Despite this rather illegal lifestyle, Richter found her heart to be good, and deemed himself needed by the charming woman. The one thing that disturbed Richter the most was the alarming tendency that people would attack the pair on the roads with intent on gaining whatever items Kah was carrying. In the course of defending himself and his new companion, he found himself forced to kill on numerous occasions. This action went against all he had learned about the importance of life from his adopted clan and he long sought for a way to reconcile it within himself. He often spoke of his troubles to the Elders of the clan when he returned home to visit, seeking guidance in their wisdom, and it during one of these visits that something wondrous occurred. A visitor, one swaddled in the cloaks of the Ky'ahdril, and therefore unknown, save for the deference shown to him by the clan Elders, came to the clan while Richter was in council. Listening to his conversations with the Elders, the figure seemed intrigued with his dilemma and became deep in thought. Soon after, when Richter had left the clan to return to Kah’s side, he was greeted at the border of the elven lands by this mysterious guest. Resting beside the figure, against a tree trunk, was a weapon of silvery magnificence. Keen, bright, and perfectly balanced, the sword seemed waiting for Richter. Richter was told by the stranger that the sword would not harm anyone if Richter did not wish to, even when in the most fearsome of combat. Instead, the weapon would sap the energy of their violence, fatiguing them until sleep overcame their bodies. The weapon would spill no blood unless that was the intent, and would be an item of defense against the helpless. All that was required was for Richter to willing take up the blade, and to give it a name. Reluctant at first, not trusting the word of this stranger, Richter declined the offer, until the stranger pulled back their hood and revealed himself to be none other than Puck, the founder of the Ky'ahdril. Now more confident, Richter took up the sword, noting with interest the horn set within the center of the weapon’s blade. Puck told him it was the donated gift of a unicorn, and that, together with the pommel, fashioned and infused with the Firebloom blossom, the sword would render him immune to poisons and diseases. Richter named the weapon K’eldyr, the elven word for Mercy, and true to Puck’s word the weapon will spill no blood unless Richter wills it so, and allows him to wield it in a manner similar to those swordsmen of the elven clan he lived with for some many years. It is unlikely that the two will ever part as long as Richter lives.