Aloeth, Revel in Ruin of Severance

Aloeth, Revel in Ruin of Severance gleams with a burnt-silver glow, its blade long as a season's shoreline. The steel holds a weathered, almost organic texture, like glass cooled in ash; the edge catches light with a cold, starlit sheen. Runes burn along the fuller, red as dried blood, flickering with a pulse that feels almost like a heartbeat pressed from long-sleeping ruin. The hilt is wrapped in faded leather, threadbare in places and whisper-soft to the touch, as if worn by many hands that pleaded for mercy and found none. At the pommel, a coal-black gem hovers with a quiet throb, drawing in and releasing the air as if it were a distant, imprisoned sun. Lore says the weapon was forged where a city once surrendered to ruin, coaxed awake by a covenant that believed severance could be commanded, not begged. Within the world, Aloeth is rarely just about raw power. Wielders speak of it as a conduit: strikes that feel like history cracking underfoot, an energy that unsettles foes already scarred by past betrayals. In rare builds it is said to tilt the tide of skirmishes, turning fleeting advantages into decisive moments when ruin is actively chosen as a path forward. The lore is woven into the weapon's own design: the ruin sigils seem to shift when the wielder faces a moral choice, as if the blade reads the narrative and responds. Adventurers claim that in dungeons and at the edge of fallen cities, bearing Aloeth helps to unlock fragments of memory—visions that guide decisions about leaving a place behind or reclaiming the remains to forge something new. This is why the relic travels with scholars, scouts, and veterans who want more than victory: they want a story that can outlast a battlefield. Prices in the bustling gates of the open world are a rumor you can feel in your teeth; you hear coins clink, you weigh futures against mats. In the shadowed stalls near Saddlebag Exchange, a silver-tongued trader unfurls a cloth pouch and slides Aloeth across the oak counter. The price tag glitters with a line of gold and a pattern of sigils, a sum that makes even seasoned collectors pause—enough to make you count your blessings and your risks. It's not just the gold; there are trade-offs, rare crafting mats, or an ancient inscription coveted by archivists. The Exchange often sways with weather and rumor, the market's mood riding on the wings of a new discovery or a fresh legend about the Severance choice. For some, owning Aloeth is a pledge to protect ruins, for others it's a doorway to the next chapter of a city that refuses to be forgotten. Whether you carry it into a quiet dawn or into a raucous night of clash and march, Aloeth carries a narrative of ruin chosen and ruin endured. It is a relic that asks you not to forget what was severed, but to honor what remains, and perhaps, to mend what time forgot. Its echo lingers long after the clash has died.