Assassin's Krait Trident

The Assassin's Krait Trident catches the late market light with a slow, oily gleam. The haft is wrapped in weathered eel-skin leather, the shaft itself a deep, obsidian black that seems to drink the glow. Three prongs rise from the head, curved and fang-like, each tip sharp as a venomous needle. The surface bears a lacquered sheen, etched with sinuous scales that seem to writhe when you tilt the blade, and a faint runic sigil glows along the grip, as if the weapon remembers every oath whispered over it. Lore whispers that it was forged by a clandestine order of krait assassins who haunted riverbanks and harbor walls, a weapon meant for silent takedowns in shadowed docks and sunlit alleys alike. It carries the scent of brine and resin, of quiet footprints and the ghost of a long night watch. In hands, it feels balanced as a blade and brutal as a spear, a tool for turning a crowded street into a corridor of choices. Its venom-tinted technique encourages hit-and-run plays, layering poison and bleeds that soften a guard and invite a careful withdrawal. Players who favor stealthy, tempo-based combat find the trident rewards patience: you step into range, twist the threat into a line of whisper-thin danger, and pull back before pursuit closes in. The weapon’s design invites close work around water and docks, where misdirection can leave an opponent tasting metal while your retreat protects you. It’s not merely about raw damage; it’s about weaving a story of control—punctures of venom, then a vanishing act that makes pursuit feel scripted and false. Prices, of course, are as slippery as a wake at sea. I wandered through the market and found the Assassin's Krait Trident waiting on a stall like a rumor you can hold. The Saddlebag Exchange, a roving ledger of chance, listed several offers: a base note of 14 gold, with others around a little more or less depending on the day’s mood and the vendor’s nerves. A quick handshake and the weapon changes hands with stories attached—about a harbor skirmish, about a krait scout who trusted this piece under a moonless sky. Even the price tag feels part of the weapon’s myth, a reminder that every buyer steps into a larger narrative of loyalties, debts, and whispered codes that bind merchants and heroes alike. And so the trident stays stocked in the world as a symbol of those who hunt in silence and strike with precision, a rare thread in the tapestry of the city’s legends. When you lift it, you’re not just arming yourself; you’re picking up a chapter of a shadowed order, and in that choosing you begin to write the next line of the story—for the Assassin's Krait Trident remembers everything you do with it, even the things you barely notice. If you listen closely on a quay, you can hear the blade sigh—a reminder that every choice to wield it leaves a ripple across tides and fates for those who walk the line.