Longetalos writes "When the forces of the Old One martyred the Knights of the Holy Shielding, one of their prizes was the town of Law's Forge, which had been long noted for it's weaponsmiths. The mark of Law's Forge was something hightly desired in a weapon. Now, it is even more prized, as the forges lay cold with the Old One's conquest of the land and it's master smiths slain or fled...or so most would assume.
Law's Forge Sword
by Richard Di Ioia (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Used with Permission. Do not repost without obtaining prior permission from the author.
On a cool evening in Ready'reat 591, a knight knelt in silent prayer to Heironeous. The cooling bodies of her foes surround her. The lone surviving prisoner being watched over by her faithful warhorse - Justice. These giants had invaded the northern reaches of Furyondy by means of the Whystil, hoping to spread murder and mayhem and then flee back by the lake that brought them. It was fortuitous that Perian and her companions were in the area and noticed the smoke of their fires.
While Perian was faithfully thanking her god for the valor he granted her in the battle, Yeremis Silverthorn was busy looting the bodies of the fallen. Yeremis was still considered young for a high elf, born in the year 473 CY in a village a few kilometers north of Highfolk. Yet he had seen the destruction and terror beings such as these brought to his people. What loot he collected would be divided among his companions, but most of his share would be returned to his people. Thus far he has been able to fund some mercenaries groups to help in the fight in the Vesve as well as to supply his clan with some much needed magical equipment.
Perian looked up as a shadow passed over her. "Yeremis finished with your search? Have you found anything of interest?"
The elf smiled and answered with a grin on his face "Blunt as always Perian. They had some coins on them, but no great fortune. Enough to pay for some new equipment and to make a tithe to your church. The only decent weapon was wielded by our prisoner, the orog." As these words left the elf's lips he tossed a longsword at Perian's feet.
Perian picked up the sword and inspected it with the expert eye of one who has wielded many blades in her life. As her eyes approached the hilt of the sword she spotted a familiar crest emblazoned on the blade. The crest used by the blacksmiths of Law's Forge. She remembered the crest well, upon the knighting of her brothers, her father had presented them with similar blades forged by the master smiths of Law's Forge. She remembered the pride she felt when her brothers entrusted her with the cleaning of their prized swords, her fingers slowly tracing the outlines of the crest. The familiar dwarven runes carved below the crest denoting the date of manufacture - 576 CY for her eldest brother and 579 CY for her middle brother. Thanks to the dwarven runes on the blades of her brothers she could at least read dwarven numbers. Her childhood memories slowly gave way to the present as her fingers traced the dwarven runes on the blade in her hand - forged in the year 590 CY.
"590 CY?" Perian blurted out loud.
"No sorry Perian, we are in 591CY." Yeremis said with a quizzical look on his face.
Perian stood up and turned to face the elf. "No, this sword was forged in 590. That would mean that the forge was still working last year. The minions of the Old One probably still have some master smiths slaving away making them weapons."
Note: Iuz, Shield Lands"