Cleric's Iron Spear of Force

Cleric's Iron Spear of Force rests on a stone pedestal, its iron shaft catching the torchlight and throwing back a pale, almost icy gleam from the runes etched along its length. The head is a single, disciplined spearpoint, darkened by use and time, with a hint of blue in its metal like frost on a blade. The grip is wrapped in weathered blue leather, cracked and supple at once, as if every twist of a hand has tuned the weapon’s appetite for justice. The butt bears a bronze ring engraved with the sigil of a long-forgotten order, a reminder that this spear was forged not merely for war but for a vow. Touch it, and texture tells its story: the iron carries a subtle grain under your fingers, as if the metal remembers the hammering of a smith who prayed over the anvil. The sigils along the shaft ripple faintly when the air grows thick with memory, and a cold warmth travels up the spine of the weapon whenever you draw near a ward or a shrine. It feels heavy with history, yet balanced as a dancer’s partner, ready to respond to the will behind a gesture as much as to a swing of the arm. The Force rune near the head glows a soft blue when the blade is drawn, a pulse that seems less lightning than whispered oath. Lore never leaves it behind, either. This spear’s origins are stitched into the chronicles of a cleric order that once stood between a sanctum and a tear in the world. They forged it to channel a disciplined force, a power that could heal as surely as it could rend the veil between realms. Legend says the last wielder turned the spear into a beacon during a desperate night, pouring its energy into a warding circle that froze a breach in the enemy’s march. From that night, soldiers and healers alike spoke of the weapon not only as a tool of battle but as a seal—an answer when courage grew thin and faith required a weapon that listened as much as it demanded to be used. In practice, the Cleric's Iron Spear of Force asks for patience and intention as much as strength. Its user-friendly reach lets you press forward in a skirmish while calling in a wave of protective energy for allies who lag behind. In the right hands, the spear serves as both cudgel and compass: a frontline weapon that clears a path while guiding the team through a dangerous corridor of magic and wards. Channeling Force with precise swings can cleanse or shield, pushing back blights and soothing the battered, a dual purpose that makes it invaluable in group conquests and treacherous escort missions alike. Its aura is not a roar but a steady, unyielding breath that reminds the party what they fight for and who stands beside them. The market in the busy square carries its own stories. A traveler carts in a stall for Saddlebag Exchange, laying this spear on a wooden rack beside other relics that whispered of pacts and promises. The shopkeeper lowers his voice to discuss value, quirks, and the grace with which this blade has carried its oath, naming a price that feels like a balance between risk and respect. The line between myth and market blurs here, where a weapon’s past can be weighed against its future, and a single trade can renew the vow that the spear carries into the next encounter.