Keel of the Lion's Champion

Keel of the Lion's Champion gleams on the table of a weathered market stall, a long, iron-bound sliver that looks as if it turned the tide of a single, decisive night. Its surface bears a chalky patina where salt and age have done their work, and along its length run faint rivets like welds of a ship's heartbeat. At each end, the edges flare into a careful crescent, as if the vessel once did nothing but slice the horizon, and the lions carved into the metal glow with a pale amber light when the lanterns catch them. Barnacles cling in a stubborn chorus across the curve, and a thread of green coppery decor knots through the grain, as if the ocean itself christened the relic with a living ribbon. The weight is not heavy in the way a hammer is heavy, but heavy with memory—an object meant to be laid down only after vows were kept. This keel belonged to the ship that bore the Lion's Champion during the fiercest night the archipelago has remembered. The story goes that a storm rose from the harbor's old wounds, and the champion commanded a desperate, last-mile retreat, steering not just a boat but a hope through the gusts. When the dawn peeled back the clouds, the ship lay beached on a reef, and with it went the myth: that a single keystone could anchor an oath. Since then, sailors have whispered that whoever lifts the keel might listen to the ocean and hear a captain's orders in the creak of the timber. In the game-world, the Keel is more than a relic; it is a key to a chorus of quests that weave old harbor lore into new adventures. A group of merchants and salvagers speak in hushed tones about how the keel can be used to complete a set of Lion's Champion regalia, or to unlock a hidden vault beneath the docks where rumors say a fleet of ships still dreams of setting sail. It’s not simply about display; it’s about doing right by the memory of the crew, and about proving that history can steer the present as surely as any compass. When a player brings the keel to a smith, they discover that it can be worked into a ceremonial weapon grip or an ornament that channels the ship’s courage into the wearer, granting a brief surge of resilience when a fight roars up from the waves. Prices flutter in the market’s air, especially at Saddlebag Exchange, where seasoned traders know the shore-worn value of every relic. A keel like this negotiates softly—often listed around several gold pieces, sometimes more, depending on the coin’s appetite and the bidder’s memory. It’s not always the money that seals the deal but the story the buyer promises to tell. And so the Keel of the Lion's Champion keeps to the twilight between legend and ledger, waiting for a captain to set sail on the next, unwritten voyage.