Dire Orrian Mace of Bloodlust

The Dire Orrian Mace of Bloodlust rests heavy in the palm, its head a brutal orb of obsidian-black iron, spiked and chipped like a relic torn from a long-forgotten statue. Crisscrossing runes wind along the haft in bright blood-red enamel, faintly humming when the air tastes of iron and salt. The leather grip wears the patina of a hundred battles, the brass ferrule catching glints of sun as you turn the weapon toward the torchlight. A hiss of old resin and oil clings to the shaft, and if you listen closely the mace seems to murmur of the harbor, of ships torn from the reef and the loyal few who kept the faith even as the city sank. Lore-heavy as any relic, it is said to have been tempered in a ritual blood-wind by a secret order that believed blood could bind the world to memory. The Bloodlust enchantment is described in dusty ledgers as a living hunger—an echo that feeds on the life force of foes and returns it to the wielder in swift, savage pulses. In tavern rumors and shipyard whisperings, you’ll hear how a strike under a blood-red sky carries the weight of Orr’s drowned gates, and how the mace’s glow thickens when the fight is at its most brutal. Some swear the weapon remembers its owners, and that every bout leaves a trace upon the bearer’s breath. From a practical angle, the Dire Orrian Mace of Bloodlust wants to be used up close, to ride the line between danger and control. In the hands of a seasoned bruiser it becomes a movement instrument: pull, swing, land a heavy hit, and the Bloodlust pulse heals a portion of that damage, letting you trade blows longer than you ought. It thrives in chaotic encounters—dropped into a choke point, you can press forward and pry open space for your squad, each swing a small investment that pays back as vitality, intimidation, and momentum. The synergy with boons and defensive stances turns a tight fight into a story where your team’s morale is as much a weapon as any strike. Trading days bring the mace into markets where price, provenance, and polish become more than mere numbers. Saddlebag Exchange is a frequent waypoint for collectors and guild merchants who want to price or barter with the air of a shipboard auction. The Dire Orrian Mace of Bloodlust tends to command a respectable sum there, with listings waxing and waning as enchantments settle and new prints of Orr’s legends drift into circulation. Buyers read the runes, compare the wear on the grip, and weigh the memory of the weapon against the risk of a curse or a miscast enhancement. In that bustling virtual bazaar, every bid carries a rumor alongside the gold. Yet for all its bragging rights, the mace remains a weighty reminder that some relics carry more than damage—they carry a world’s ache, a battlefield’s breath, and the stubborn will of those who refused to forget. The Dire Orrian Mace of Bloodlust is a story you can swing, a blade of memory that cuts both foe and fate, binding the bearer to a history stubborn enough to outlive empires.