Assassin's Bronze Greatsword of Rage

Assassin's Bronze Greatsword of Rage gleams with a patina that hints at ages of use, a bronze blade broad and weighty, edges softened by travel yet sharp as a whisper. Its guard is carved with a stylized crescent and a line of tiny runes that glow faintly when the weapon’s owner is filled with fury. The grip, wrapped in cracked ochre leather, fits the hand with a hunter’s fearlessness, and the pommel holds a small bronze orb that seems to pulse with a slow, patient heat. On the blade, the engravings tell a story—thin lines that cross and recross like a map of alleys and contract-killers from a city that no longer exists. Some say the bronze was quenched in a storm-drizzled forge, tempered under the watchful eye of a hooded assassin who vanished before dawn. When drawn, the weapon hums with a low resonance, as if rage itself were poured into the space around the wielder, turning motion into an avalanche of blows. In practical terms, warriors who crave decisive hits reach for it: the Greatsword’s broad arc stuns and breaks armor; the weapon’s inherent fury amplifies critical chance and bite, letting a clean slash carve through dusk-tinted crowds. Players who swing it in the heat of a skirmish feel the world tilt—bleeding light, enemies knocked aside, and a momentary surge of adrenaline that seems to erase doubt. The item becomes a character in its own right, a relic that encourages a style of play built on pursuit and precise, brutal execution. For a revenant or a power-build guardian, its lust for impact aligns perfectly with the momentum of a story arc: a trail of enemies, a city left breathless, and a vow spoken in the rush of a finishing blow. Market days bring the weapon into view at the Saddlebag Exchange, where traders haggle among crates and the buzz of coin. The bronze greatsword sits on a velvet-lined display, its price tag a small cliff of numbers that shifts with the crowd’s appetite. One morning it might be listed at around 14 gold, another at 18, depending on who has the nerve to press the bell and who believes their tale about the assassin who once carried it. Buyers test the weight, tap the edge on a leather strap, listen for the quiet chorus of its metal singing—an invitation to risk and glory. In this market, the weapon’s value is as much about legend as steel. Still, for those who hold it, the sword is a companion in more than combat—it's a thesis about rage restrained and rage unleashed, about a hunter who learned to seek a target and a survivor who learned to walk away with nothing left but the memory of a blade’s heat. Perhaps that is the item’s true price: not the coins exchanged at Saddlebag Exchange, but the moment you decide the rage you carry will become your weapon’s voice.