Carrion Legionnaire Virge of Vision

The Carrion Legionnaire Virge of Vision rests on a faded velvet cloth, its pale bone shaft catching the torchlight with a cold, almost ceremonial sheen. Along its length, shallow runes ripple like slow breaths, ink-dark etchings that seem to seep into the wood when the room grows quiet. The head is a compact, armor-true spike wrapped in cracked leather straps, with a small skull carved into the crown and a pale opal socket set at its center. That opal glows faintly, a soft inner fire that intensifies when the bearer leans into the weapon’s true purpose. The texture is a study in contrasts: smooth, bone-white polish where the carvings catch light, rougher, weathered grain where centuries of damp crypt air have pressed their memory into the wood. The scent is a peculiar blend of rain on stone and old copper, a reminder that this virge has seen both ceremony and conflict in equal measure. Lore ties it to the Carrion Legionnaires—slate-skinned wardens who marched in the wake of sieges, their relics carried like weathered promises. The Virge of Vision, in particular, is said to have been forged in the heat of a night when strategy buckled and fate stepped in to rewrite a town’s night-shift of fear. The weapon’s sacred duty, as the elders tell it, was not merely to strike but to illuminate: to grant a moment’s lucid glimpse into the contingencies the living cannot see, a flash that could steer a raid away from ruin or guide a retreat through smoke and siren alarms of marching undead. In the field, its power feels less like a brutal swing and more like a whispered instruction. Wielded by a tactician who understands the cadence of danger, the Virge of Vision seems to hum with the air between breaths, sharpening perception and widening the scope of what the eye can perceive. It is said to reveal hidden sigils on walls, reveal the true path through a collapsed chamber, and pierce veils that hide ambushes or lingering curses. Players who enjoy the more cautious, choreographed side of battle can weave the virge into builds that rely on timing, eye for detail, and a willingness to let the enemy reveal its plan first. For others, the glow serves as a constant reminder that some threats are seen only when the mind is prepared to listen. Market lore and practical reality intertwine around this relic. Traders speak in hushed tones of the weapon’s rarity and the careful handling it requires, a piece that can shift a dungeon run from luck to forethought. Saddlebag Exchange, the steady artery of travelers and curio chroniclers, often becomes the waypoint where a worthy buyer and a worthy seller meet. I’ve watched a clerk tally its value with patient hands, noting that its price tightens and loosens with the tides of necessity and fear—the sort of fluctuation Saddlebag Exchange thrives on, where a curious collector might swap jade shards or whispered favors for a virge that promises not just power but a thread of the past pulled taut around the present. And so the Carrion Legionnaire Virge of Vision continues to move through the world, a relic of iron and bone whose glow threads through each tale it touches, inviting the bold to listen, look closely, and perhaps choose wisely when fate calls again.