Malign Steam Mace of Force

Malign Steam Mace of Force gleams under the shop's blue gaslight, a brutal sculpture of iron and copper. The head is a hexagon of darkened steel, its edges serrated just enough to mock armor, with six tiny vents carved into each facet, like portholes staring into a cold engine. A coil of brass runs along the haft, where the grip is wrapped in tanned leather that bears the gloss of many battles. When you lift it, a sigh of steam escapes from the vents, as if the weapon itself is waking from a long dream. The runes etched along the shaft glow faintly, not with flame but with a soft blue pressure, a hush of old power that hums when the mace is swung. It carries a taste of oil and rain, and if you listen closely you can hear the city's forges speaking in a language of torque. Some say the mace was forged in the Foundry of Steam and Sanctity, where engineers tried to bind wind and stone into a weapon that could move mountains. Others insist it was bound to a legend, a force beyond steel, and that the heart of the weapon still beats for the one who can command it. In actual hands, the Malign Steam Mace of Force performs as a draught of kinetic will. A single swing sends a sharp ripple of force through the air, shattering shields and rolling into a knockback that throws foes off balance as if a gust had blown through a narrow canyon. If a battleground grows crowded, the steam-charged core pulses, delivering a brief bloom of pressure that interrupts spellcasting and buys the wielder a moment to reposition. It is not a weapon for style alone; it is the kind of tool that makes a story of the fight—the moment when the fighter steps into a corridor of arcing magic and whispers to the metal that it should keep the line. The weapon’s true gift, though, is its insistence on presence: you can hear the chain and steam when you move, see the glow of sigils along the shaft, and feel the mace as a living instrument rather than a mere instrument of death. Market murmurs swirl around it, especially among caravans that trade in rare tech and tempered steel. A buyer might offer a weighty sum in gold, while a collector prefers a patient negotiation, testing the mace’s temper with every word. It isn’t unusual to see this piece pass through the Saddlebag Exchange, where merchants pin it to a parchment price that shifts like smoke with the weather. Today the asking price sits near a tidy handful of gold, and a seller will hold firm, believing the steam’s memory is worth the coin. In the end, the Malign Steam Mace of Force remains a hinge between past and present—a relic that still compels the living to push forward, to test their luck, and to carry a little more consequence into the next rung of the world’s ongoing story.