Skill: Shows off the blacksmiths massive horse cock. In a time before modern machinery some crazy Germans and Swiss hammered beyond natural human limit. They probably did it as a meme then realised it was actually useful as a weapon. Sharpening a wavy blade would have been a nightmare.
Functional: Good for duelling sword vs sword. A traditional sword allows you to slide off an enemies blade if your swords clash, because the blade is straight. The waves in a flamberg blade creates vibrations which hurts the opponents hands, that doesn’t sound like much but it gives you an advantage. Very useful for parrying since the enemies sword will strike, then the blade gets stuck on your wavy blade or they pull away from the impact shock. Either way you will have an opening to attack. Also the waves cut much deeper similar to a serrated knife. If you got cut once by this blade, you would not be able to stitch your wound shut, you are pretty much sliced bread.
Aesthetic: Someone challenges you to a duel, while they unsheathe their boring longsword, you unwrap your wiggly sword. They immediately apologize and run because you are rich enough to afford a wiggly sword and probably have multiple wenches giving you ankle parchments.
It had taken forever for the enchantment to settle.
The fear it might break was at the forefront of his mind. Older things like this were difficult to make with the limited supplies available. Tyleril had to use some of his newfound coin from his last commission.
He prayed to the Light, asking for it’s blessing. For the first time in his long lived life he didn’t ask for kindness, strength, or any other benevolent blessing.
He wanted searing white flames, cold and brutal strength.
It was a last minute thought that had wormed his way into his mind and he had spent the better part of the day and night focusing on it.
She might be used to better than the garbage this is.
Tyleril hesitated, picking it up gently and eyeing it.
The arcane shimmer that caught his eye was beautiful, but when he felt the Light’s blessing he shuddered. It was cold burning fury. Strength that healed you even as it burned.
The Light was kindness, warmth, and grace. But this…
Tyleril brushed his fingers over it.
Like Aestus’s healing. The pain from a broken rib was nothing compared to the feeling of the Light burning as it healed. It was the cold grace of a mercy kill. The delayed feeling of pain when a sharpened blade cut through your flesh.
It had taken forever for the enchantment to settle.
The fear it might break was at the forefront of his mind. Older things like this were difficult to make with the limited supplies available. Tyleril had to use some of his newfound coin from his last commission.
He prayed to the Light, asking for it’s blessing. For the first time in his long lived life he didn’t ask for kindness, strength, or any other benevolent blessing.
He wanted searing white flames, cold and brutal strength.
It was a last minute thought that had wormed his way into his mind and he had spent the better part of the day and night focusing on it.
She might be used to better than the garbage this is.
Tyleril hesitated, picking it up gently and eyeing it.
The arcane shimmer that caught his eye was beautiful, but when he felt the Light’s blessing he shuddered. It was cold burning fury. Strength that healed you even as it burned.
The Light was kindness, warmth, and grace. But this…
Tyleril brushed his fingers over it.
Like Aestus’s healing. The pain from a broken rib was nothing compared to the feeling of the Light burning as it healed. It was the cold grace of a mercy kill. The delayed feeling of pain when a sharpened blade cut through your flesh.
Tyleril Silversword 