You have finally arrived at the City of Silverymoon in the Northern region of Faerun. The air is cold here and the environs intimidating and far from tame. Surprisingly amidst the cold wilderness awaits a city full of riches. The word "riches" is defined far differently in Silverymoon than the rest of the Realms; Wealth here refers to the retention of great knowledge and artistic strides. An organic city with smooth shapes and curves bend and twist with nature so that trees, shrubs, and flowers grow as one with the magically shaped architecture.
Strolling through the magical city is a welcome course after such a long time on the snow covered roads of the North. The temperature has been magically altered within the city, allowing flowers to bloom in the dead of winter and artists to stand outside when it is snowing painting great visions upon vast canvases. The smell of sweetrolls from the market wafts to your nose causing a smile to gently spread across your face as a bard's lute sings a wonderful tune to the rhythm of your feet until your shoes gently slide across the smooth cobblestones taking you towards the High Palace of Silverymoon.
Awaiting you in the beautiful gardens of the High Palace is none other than the great Sage Huram of Silverymoon. He has a long white beard weaved in two braids with the rest loose and tangled, flowing down over his rotund belly. He wears bright white robes with a blue sash and around his neck hangs a large amulet with the symbol of Silverymoon- a half moon with a smattering of stars.
"Hail and well met friend! Thank you for visiting the High Palace of Silverymoon, I am sorry but Lady Alustriel is... not available at the moment so I will be your guide. You have come a great ways, I trust your journey was a safe one. What's that? Oh yes, let's get right to it."
"You have come seeking information on some of Faerun's finest lost magical blades correct? You have come to the right place, I have made it my life's work to pour over old dusty tomes in search of lore regarding magical items of all kinds. Given that I am partially responsible for the well being of the Guardians of Silverymoon I have taken a special interest in enchanted arms and armor. Come into my office and I'll show you some of the information I have recovered on these blades."
Sword #1: Jurdef's Blade
Longsword +2/+4 vs. Priests of Evil
Once per day creates a glowing ball of light which causes 6d6 damage to undead in a 60' Radius
Jurdef Gretall was the best friend and travelling companion of the great Priest Tornovius- whom followed the stoic god of justice, Tyr. Jurdef had been born into slavery in a faraway land and is rumored to have been rescued by Tornovius. Many rumors and legends exist, but if logically pieced together we are able to gleam some facts from the stories. Tornovius had been travelling in a foreign land, seeking "the giving slave" he saw in a reoccurring vision granted to him by the great Tyr the Just. Tornovius came upon Jurdef helping an older woman pick up dropped vegetables from the cobblestone street of a poor town. When Jurdef found that the woman had just lost her husband and had stolen the vegetables to feed her children, Jurdef told her to return the vegetables and take a gold coin he had found on the street a couple weeks prior. Tornovius overheard this interaction, and when Jurdef's slave master caught up with him and started to whip the boy, Tornovius came to his aid and paid the slaver his last 30 gold to set him free. Tornovius told the man to go free with no obligation to him or his family. Jurdef could not accept this kind act without some form of repayment; Thus did Jurdef pledge to travel with Tornovius and always protect his savior. The two over the next few years became very good friends and Tornovius taught Jurdef how to wield his own father's blade. Rumor has it that Tornovius was a rotund yet muscular man who preferred large bludgeoning weapons such as a maul or mace, thus he granted his father's blade to his best friend Jurdef. One day while travelling through the High Forest in the Northern region of Faerun the two were ambushed by evil drow priests and their undead minions. The priests were too powerful and too many for the friends. After an hour in bloody combat, Tornovius fell, badly injured by their blades and dark magic tongues. Jurdef would not give up and continued fighting long after his physical body had fallen. He did not realize it at the time, but his pledge to always protect his friend combined with the magic of Tornovius's father's sword had bound his soul to the blade. A great sphere of bright sunlight burst forth from the blade, enveloping the evil priests and causing the undead to burst into flames. The priests fled into the woods but it was too late for Jurdef who had been absorbed by the magical blade. He would live out his life through the blade and vanquish evil priests wherever they may rear their ugly heads. Tornovius died of his wounds in the cold winter deep in the tall trees of the High Forest. His last words will never be known.
The sword was recovered from the woods by a group of adventurers a couple decades ago, but after the group left to explore an old dwarven mine in the mountains near Citadel Adbar the group was never heard from again. Perhaps the sword waits amidst a pile of bones, jewels, and gems. Jurdef still waits in the cold ashen darkness for someone to claim him so that he may continue his quest to cleanse the shadows with the sun.
In the year 1329, in the quaint dale known as Mistledale a powerful retired wizard who went by the name Rewl mourned the loss of his only child- his daughter Sarah. Sarah had been an adventurer and from what the last surviving member of her party could tell Rewl, she had been slain by a great Red Dragon known as Flaire during the groups exploration of the Ruins of Myth Drannor. Rewl mourned for weeks until finally he came to terms with his grief in a very masculine manner- he would slay the dragon Flaire, but not before exacting his revenge and torturing the beast that dared to take his daughter from him. Rewl had the greatest blacksmith in the Dalelands craft him a plain cane which would secretly house a fine blade made from the purest steel ore mixed with the illegally acquired blood of adolescent dragons. Finally Rewl had the mythril head of a dragon placed upon the cane with magical blood red ioun stones for eyes. Rewl took the blade home and enchanted it with numerous spells, delving into Necromancy for some and the dark arts of Shadow Magic. Finally he called upon the darkest of all gods to bless the blade so that it may pierce the flesh of dragons. The blessing was granted and Rewl now acquired a tool with which he could slay dragons, and so he did. Rewl became suddenly obscessed with ridding the world of all Dragonkind, good or evil it did not matter. Rewl traveled the realms gaining a reputation as a ruthless slayer of Dragons. Ironically when Rewl finally stumbled upon a chance encounter with Flaire (the red dragon that had slain his daughter) her vast size and stature so entranced Rewl that she disemboweled him with a single claw and took his sword-cane for her treasure horde where it still resides to this day.
Kulvar was a Purple Dragon Knight of Cormyr who found city life suffocating. He had grown up in the small town of Eveningstar to the NW of Arabel- the city where Kulvar served. The longer Kulvar served under King Azoun, the more he craved freedom. Finally one day while on a mission outside of town he had enough of the structured environment he had forced himself into and fled the group on horseback into the nearby hills. He traveled for days with very little food and water. Recalling his survival skills he learned from his father while a child in Eveningstar, he found survival in the forests and hills to be invigorating living outside in the rain and elements. Eventually, Kulvar became accustomed to living alone in the wilderness and was at peace. One day Purple Dragon Knights appeared in the area protecting miners who were surveying the hills for potential sources of ore. Kulvar fled into the hills but was spotted by the Purple Dragons who pursued upon recognizing the defunct warrior. Kulvar ran hard and fast and distanced himself from his former comrades. He was running haphazardly though and tripped and fell down a small ravine. In the ravine Kulvar found his fall had disturbed some rocks blocking a small cave entrance. Within the cave were the remains of a great warrior wrapped in sheets of silver. Upon the sheets lay a gleaming engraved bastard sword. Kulvar reached for the blade and when his hands touched the grip he knew he had found his soul-mate. Raising the sword above his head, Kulvar exited the cave and decided that civilization would push no further into the wilderness, this would be the last stand for the trees, the animals, the wind and the rain, this would be home to no more humans and their destructive ways. Kulvar had become one with the land and defender of the free realm. He charged into battle against his own men- the Purple Dragons and the miners. He was outnumbered, outmatched, and outarmored- and he slayed them all. A bloody mess was left upon that hillside and it would be the last time anyone ventured into those woods. Rumors still say that evil Harpy's killed those Purple Dragons and the miners, but some know better and pass on the legend of Kulvar of the Bloody Hills who may still wander those hills with his enchanted blade to this very day.
Thank you for reading our first installment of the Magical Items of the Forgotten Realms. There will be many more to come so please check back, and remember that these creations can be altered to use in any world, setting, or RPG. Enjoy!