1. Name/titles - Lord Elfen Lied the Blood Dragon of Sylvania
2. Rank - Imperator
3. Legion - HELLSING (His Royal Elfen Lied's Legion of Soldiers and Immortal Night Guard)
4. Weapon/s and armor - A single Bastard Sword I call the Purifier; while it is no fabled Holy avenger, the Legendary blade Carsomyr, it is still a mighty weapon, 4 and half feet of Evil destroying steel and blessed silver, It has been in the Blood Dragon family for centuries.
Heavy armor, dark silver in colour, and the enchantments on this suit are particularly powerful. the perfectly fitted interlocking plates are specially angled to deflect arrows and blows, and the entire suit is carefully adorned with rich engraving and embossed detail. Sheathed in the chitinous scales of the ankheg and treated with the blood of a noble dragon, it provides a greater degree of protection than traditional plate mail and is not succeptible to rust.
5. Appearance - Tall, early 30's, average build,
6. Bio - During the winter of 1431, I was born in a military fortress in Sylvania, a rather evil and cursed land, but it is home, lying east of the Empire of Man. I was the second son of Abhorash the Blood Dragon and Neferata Queen of Lahmia. At the age of five, I like my father and brother, Krell before me, was initiated into the Order of the Dragon, an order of selected nobles fiercely devoted to the deity Silversurfnstud. It is around this time that the Time of Troubles, when gods and deities are forced to walk the worlds as mortals, begins.
War is rampant through the lands, nobles are captured and held for ransom, sadly I along with my older brother were no exception. We were captured and held for ransom by the Dark Elves (or Drow). Dark Elves are known for their intense brutality and cruelty towards prisoners and slaves. And none more so than the resident of Naggaroth, the Home of Witch King the Dark Elf Lord Malekith. It is here that I developed a taste for torture. In 1447, shortly before the death of our father, my brother and I were rescued, by our father's forces, under the command of the General, Nagash the Black.
Our honoured father dies during our trek home, upon returning, Krell as the oldest is named as his successor and is crowned Lord of Sylvania. in 1451 in a campaign to take over several neighbouring provinces, Reikland, a large rich and prosperous province and Gallowmere a small hauntingly eerie province, Nagash the black dies I am named as his replacement. Together Krell and I finish what he and Nagash could not, complete taking over of the two provinces. I am named Lord of the province of Gallowmere. In 1456 Krell dies from a mortal wound he sustained during the occupation of Reikland, and I and now made Lord of all Sylvania and other recently captured provinces.
In the year 1457 I married a beautiful, young priestess by the name of Izabella, and she soon became my world. I would shower her with many gifts from the spoilers of my victories. In the winter of 1466 on one campaign to defend the Eastern border of my lands it appeared that neither side could gain the upper hand and the fighting lasted much longer than any wished it to. During this lengthy campaign the enemy send a note to my wife Izabella, claiming that I had been killed in the course of the battle. After she received the news she was wracked with sorrow and leaped to her death from a tower window of our castle. Upon returning home victorious I went into a state of madness. Most of what happened during the first few months following my return is a blur, though my advisors have informed me that I had killed some of their predecessors in fits of rage while blood drunk and furious over my beloved wife's death. However the horrors visited upon me were nothing compared to those of my enemies who forced the letter. Entire families were massacred, towns and cities razed, countrysides set ablaze.
My rule is known as much for my devotion to my people as it is for my brutality and executions of my enemies. My enemies and those of my god are executed publicly and their body parts put on display so that other men might learn the horrors awaiting them if they should cross Elfen Lied, or the god Silversurfnstud. Towards the end of the 1450's my lands are constantly under attack from the forces of Karl Franz, trying to retake Reikland. They are unsuccessful, yet neither am I advancing much further west. In the winter of 1461-62 Kurt Hulberg is successful in reclaiming Reikland, but that is all he is able to achieve. My armies are successful in defending my lands.
The Church War, in which followers of the gods fight each other, rather than the peoples of the Lords and kings fighting each other, breaks out short after and rages for 14 years, Fighting is much more fierce as now members of the cloth take up arms and do battle,. It ends shortly after 1476, when several members of the church of Talos, the Storm God, attempt to assassinate me in retribution for the killing of 100 of Storm Knights, but I am saved by my God, Silversurfnstud. It is in this instance that in exchange for a lifetime of service, I am granted second life and become a No life King, a seemingly immortal being of immense power. The other churches quickly bow before the might of Silversurfnstud. and things quickly return to normal, Hostile provinces once again begin attacking one another or themselves.
During the next few years I shaped and molded many faithful followers of the Lord God Silversurfnstud into the most feared army in the lands, His royal Elfen Lied's Legion of Soldiers and Immortal Night Guard (HELLSING), who in addition to waging war in the name of our Lord God, also serve as a form of bodyguards though the god Silversurfnstud is of course capable of defending himself should the need arise. As the masses of followers of Silversurfstud multiplied so did the need for more legions to protect the people, and thus the Silver Inferno Knights (SICK) were born. however SICK retained the motto of HELLSING, In the name of God, the impure Souls of the Living Dead shall be banished into eternal damnation, Amen. as well as other characteristics, such as ranks. As the notoriety of SICK grew so did my rank within it, and soon I was appointed to the newly formed rank of Imperator of the Legions of the god Silversurfnstud.
The followers of Silversurfnstud are not all militants, it is also comprised of civilians and priests. And as such ruling bodies need to be created. Hence the Executive Council came into being. The Council is comprised of The Lord God, The Imperator of the Legions, the Head Zealot and other extremely highly ranked members. And to enforce the laws the Executive Council had created, the Executioner Squad was formed. The Executioner Squad is well known for its brutal enforcement of the laws of Silversurfnstudism. Many of their methods are modified methods I learned through my time held captive by the Dark Elves.
In the year 1480 while engaged in a titanic battle with the men of the Empire under the command of Karl Franz himself, a terrible storm suddenly appeared darkening the skies and battering everyone with torrential down pour. With neither side wished to leave we were left with two options, fight in the storm or seek whatever shelter could be sought and ride it out. Both chose the latter. Taken shelter in a ruined temple we waited. Its eeriness was hauntingly pleasing, but the shrill cry of one of my warriors was not. He spoke of something in the darkness, a beast he called it. he talked of it possessing snake-like hind quarters, yet the torso of a man, and many arms. Assuring him he was mistaken I was met with others claiming to have see the same thing. Sensing a possible loss in moral was imminent, I ventured further into the temple to investigate. Deep in the bowels of the temple I came across a forgotten tomb. The inscription of the sarcophagus had withered away over time only the line “here lies Nostros, champion of the Light” remained unscathed.
Seeing the name I remembered the stories my father used to tell me and my brother. Our father told us tales of a warrior called Nostros, a holy warrior who worn armor of shinning silver and wield a mighty sword that was said to be infused with the very essence of virtue. My reminiscing of days long since passed was interrupted by a high pitched screech emanating from the lower recesses. My men began to cower in fear, an action I did not condone so to instill some faith in my men I headed to where the sound appeared to come from, but before I could even enter the darkness I was thrown back by something, slamming into the sarcophagus, breaking it into pieces. Feeling around I felt the decay of bone, then the cold of steel of a blade. Having lost my own sword while in mid flight, I grabbed the sword. Its length was nothing overly impressive, it was no more than 4 and a half feet, from the tip of the blade to the bottom of the hilt, but it glowed with a white light. This had to be Nostros’ own sword, the ‘Purifier’. Thought lost to the ages, the Purifier is an ancient evil banishing sword, it is said that evil cannot wield such a weapon, that they would be destroyed should it even try.
Holding the sword in my hands tightly the beast lumbered out from the shadows. A Marilith. An ancient evil, from days long since passed. A being half snake and half beautiful woman, and with 6 arms each holding a weapon of various shapes and sizes. Having walked the paths of the world beyond, nothing in this world holds any terror for me. I arose to my feet and issued a challenge to the demon swaying hypnotically from side to side before me. Apparently the creature had taken up residence in the temple, and believing us to be intruders, was ready to protect its lodging. Like my foe I was not going to give us with out a fight, seeing it as the most logic of options. This thing had an intense look in its eye. It was not going to let us leave peacefully. Ordering my men to stay back I alone approached it, and true to my nature issued a number of insulting taunts, though the Marilith remained largely unfazed. Having enough of my oratory the creature lunged forward and began swinging away at me. I managed to evade most of its attacks but those that landed torn through my armor like it was leather. Allowing the creature to attack, slashing at my flesh, it grew ever more confident in its ability to kill me, but also it substituted power for accuracy. A fact I took full advantage of. Striking hard and deep in the beast’s abdomen as it readied itself for another forceful blow. It fell to the ground. I dug my sword into its shoulder and turned the sword in the wound, widening it and taking delight in the pain and torment before decapitating the creature.
As I now found myself without any armor, I took it upon myself to don the armor of the once mighty Nostros, hoping that it might serve me as well as it had Nostros, in the tales I had heard of him. It was no doubt centuries old, but in surprisingly good condition. Even the blood-red cape had not yet withered away, and the plate mail had not yet lost its silvery shine. A runner came forward saying the storm had died down, and Karl Franz’s army was emerging.
The two sides met again and the fighting resumed almost to the point where you would have known it had even stopped. Being the warrior I am I found myself frequently in the thick of it. Hacking and slashing my opponents to pieces, I reveled in the massacre, enjoying the sheer brutality of it all. Drunk with bloodlust, a curse of the armor? Or was it my own deteriorated state of mind? I didn’t care, all that mattered was the piles of corpses I left in my wake. For 3 days and 3 nights we fought and killed each other, the soil littered with corpses, the rivers tainted with the blood of the fallen. On the fourth day with victory assured, it was swiftly taken from me. Like a rat fleeing a sinking ship, the army of Karl Franz, retreated. It seemed many had fled when a story they had heard had apparently become very real. Elfen Lied lives, the hundred man slayer, the undying, countless times he as fallen in battle, yet returned to life as if he had sustained only a small cut or graze.
Early in the year 1498 after hearing word of a small city nestled along the Dyre River in the province of Entsteig in the lands of Sanctuary, by the name of Deeha’Blothri was in need of some strong warriors to help quell an uprising. I decided to lend aid, as the city was strategically placed at a river fork and at the end of the road the lead south to the Tamoe Mountains and Khanduras. Let allow it was populated by many of Silversurfnstud’s faithful. A combined force of mercenaries and militia had taken up arms upon the people of the surround lands, and appeared as though ready to take the city by force, should they not be stopped. I took with me a large force of heavy armored cavalry, the Cavaliers, elite equestrian knights, the pride of the Royal Sylvanian Army. Few have withstood the onslaught they bring at full charge, the ground shaking as they ride.
The leader of this rabble Gorm Folcwald, was a monster of a man. He was almost as wide as he was tall, and a skilled warrior, and charismatic leader. His head would make a great adornment for the battlements of Deeha’Blothri, but he was not willing to part with it so easily. Whipping his men into a frenzy he sent wave after wave of them upon the gates of the city. The besieged residents did well to hold them off as long as they did until the relief force could arrive. It a little after midday on the twenty third day of the second month of 1498 when we arrived at the out skirts of the city, the journey from my homeland was long, we were tired and hungry. But we pressed on, lest the city be lost. Approaching the southern most gates, I, along with a small contingent of Cavaliers charged the rebels as the tried to break through the gate with a battering ram. Charging hard we broke their lines, crushing them mercilessly beneath our horse hooves, and cutting down the others, until only Gorm Folcwald was left alive. I dismounted, and walked straight up to him after signaling to everyone to leave his alone for me. A skilled warrior he was, but no match for me, A shame though he would have made a valued warrior to my causes, but I did not stand for his anarchy, I put the rebel leader’s head on a spike and placed it at the top of the bridge to the keep, to act as a warning to others. Liking what I saw of the city, it’s surroundings and of course its people, I decided to stay for a while.
The year 1500 shall mark my beginning of my third year spent in Deeha’Blothri.
7. Goals - Like all those who follow the Silversurfnstud, my ultimate goal is the destruction of Evil. But i am also looking for that one truly great opponent. And to find the Holy Avenger, blade Carsomyr,
Carsomyr is a weapon of legend, perhaps one of the most powerful blades ever forged on Faerun, though its origin and history is thought purposefully forgotten, such that the sword itself never overshadow the importance of the struggles that must be fought today. It is infused with the very essence of virtue, and requires as much from any paladin that would hope to wield it. The evils of the Realms must truly stand aside when this weapon is brought to bear, their magic dispelled with a word, steadfastly resisted with ease. Carsomyr also harbors a special distaste for the forces of evil and chaos, and such creatures must fear additional damage from its touch in battle.
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-Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is alchemy's First Law of Equivalent Exchange. In those days, we really believed that to be the world's one, and only, truth.
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2. Rank - Imperator
3. Legion - HELLSING (His Royal Elfen Lied's Legion of Soldiers and Immortal Night Guard)
4. Weapon/s and armor - A single Bastard Sword I call the Purifier; while it is no fabled Holy avenger, the Legendary blade Carsomyr, it is still a mighty weapon, 4 and half feet of Evil destroying steel and blessed silver, It has been in the Blood Dragon family for centuries.
Heavy armor, dark silver in colour, and the enchantments on this suit are particularly powerful. the perfectly fitted interlocking plates are specially angled to deflect arrows and blows, and the entire suit is carefully adorned with rich engraving and embossed detail. Sheathed in the chitinous scales of the ankheg and treated with the blood of a noble dragon, it provides a greater degree of protection than traditional plate mail and is not succeptible to rust.
5. Appearance - Tall, early 30's, average build,
6. Bio -
During the winter of 1431, I was born in a military fortress in Sylvania, a rather evil and cursed land, but it is home, lying east of the Empire of Man. I was the second son of Abhorash the Blood Dragon and Neferata Queen of Lahmia. At the age of five, I like my father and brother, Krell before me, was initiated into the Order of the Dragon, an order of selected nobles fiercely devoted to the deity Silversurfnstud. It is around this time that the Time of Troubles, when gods and deities are forced to walk the worlds as mortals, begins.
War is rampant through the lands, nobles are captured and held for ransom, sadly I along with my older brother were no exception. We were captured and held for ransom by the Dark Elves (or Drow). Dark Elves are known for their intense brutality and cruelty towards prisoners and slaves. And none more so than the resident of Naggaroth, the Home of Witch King the Dark Elf Lord Malekith. It is here that I developed a taste for torture. In 1447, shortly before the death of our father, my brother and I were rescued, by our father's forces, under the command of the General, Nagash the Black.
Our honoured father dies during our trek home, upon returning, Krell as the oldest is named as his successor and is crowned Lord of Sylvania. in 1451 in a campaign to take over several neighbouring provinces, Reikland, a large rich and prosperous province and Gallowmere a small hauntingly eerie province, Nagash the black dies I am named as his replacement. Together Krell and I finish what he and Nagash could not, complete taking over of the two provinces. I am named Lord of the province of Gallowmere. In 1456 Krell dies from a mortal wound he sustained during the occupation of Reikland, and I and now made Lord of all Sylvania and other recently captured provinces.
In the year 1457 I married a beautiful, young priestess by the name of Izabella, and she soon became my world. I would shower her with many gifts from the spoilers of my victories. In the winter of 1466 on one campaign to defend the Eastern border of my lands it appeared that neither side could gain the upper hand and the fighting lasted much longer than any wished it to. During this lengthy campaign the enemy send a note to my wife Izabella, claiming that I had been killed in the course of the battle. After she received the news she was wracked with sorrow and leaped to her death from a tower window of our castle. Upon returning home victorious I went into a state of madness. Most of what happened during the first few months following my return is a blur, though my advisors have informed me that I had killed some of their predecessors in fits of rage while blood drunk and furious over my beloved wife's death. However the horrors visited upon me were nothing compared to those of my enemies who forced the letter. Entire families were massacred, towns and cities razed, countrysides set ablaze.
My rule is known as much for my devotion to my people as it is for my brutality and executions of my enemies. My enemies and those of my god are executed publicly and their body parts put on display so that other men might learn the horrors awaiting them if they should cross Elfen Lied, or the god Silversurfnstud. Towards the end of the 1450's my lands are constantly under attack from the forces of Karl Franz, trying to retake Reikland. They are unsuccessful, yet neither am I advancing much further west. In the winter of 1461-62 Kurt Hulberg is successful in reclaiming Reikland, but that is all he is able to achieve. My armies are successful in defending my lands.
The Church War, in which followers of the gods fight each other, rather than the peoples of the Lords and kings fighting each other, breaks out short after and rages for 14 years, Fighting is much more fierce as now members of the cloth take up arms and do battle,. It ends shortly after 1476, when several members of the church of Talos, the Storm God, attempt to assassinate me in retribution for the killing of 100 of Storm Knights, but I am saved by my God, Silversurfnstud. It is in this instance that in exchange for a lifetime of service, I am granted second life and become a No life King, a seemingly immortal being of immense power. The other churches quickly bow before the might of Silversurfnstud. and things quickly return to normal, Hostile provinces once again begin attacking one another or themselves.
During the next few years I shaped and molded many faithful followers of the Lord God Silversurfnstud into the most feared army in the lands, His royal Elfen Lied's Legion of Soldiers and Immortal Night Guard (HELLSING), who in addition to waging war in the name of our Lord God, also serve as a form of bodyguards though the god Silversurfnstud is of course capable of defending himself should the need arise. As the masses of followers of Silversurfstud multiplied so did the need for more legions to protect the people, and thus the Silver Inferno Knights (SICK) were born. however SICK retained the motto of HELLSING, In the name of God, the impure Souls of the Living Dead shall be banished into eternal damnation, Amen. as well as other characteristics, such as ranks. As the notoriety of SICK grew so did my rank within it, and soon I was appointed to the newly formed rank of Imperator of the Legions of the god Silversurfnstud.
The followers of Silversurfnstud are not all militants, it is also comprised of civilians and priests. And as such ruling bodies need to be created. Hence the Executive Council came into being. The Council is comprised of The Lord God, The Imperator of the Legions, the Head Zealot and other extremely highly ranked members. And to enforce the laws the Executive Council had created, the Executioner Squad was formed. The Executioner Squad is well known for its brutal enforcement of the laws of Silversurfnstudism. Many of their methods are modified methods I learned through my time held captive by the Dark Elves.
In the year 1480 while engaged in a titanic battle with the men of the Empire under the command of Karl Franz himself, a terrible storm suddenly appeared darkening the skies and battering everyone with torrential down pour. With neither side wished to leave we were left with two options, fight in the storm or seek whatever shelter could be sought and ride it out. Both chose the latter. Taken shelter in a ruined temple we waited. Its eeriness was hauntingly pleasing, but the shrill cry of one of my warriors was not. He spoke of something in the darkness, a beast he called it. he talked of it possessing snake-like hind quarters, yet the torso of a man, and many arms. Assuring him he was mistaken I was met with others claiming to have see the same thing. Sensing a possible loss in moral was imminent, I ventured further into the temple to investigate. Deep in the bowels of the temple I came across a forgotten tomb. The inscription of the sarcophagus had withered away over time only the line “here lies Nostros, champion of the Light” remained unscathed.
Seeing the name I remembered the stories my father used to tell me and my brother. Our father told us tales of a warrior called Nostros, a holy warrior who worn armor of shinning silver and wield a mighty sword that was said to be infused with the very essence of virtue. My reminiscing of days long since passed was interrupted by a high pitched screech emanating from the lower recesses. My men began to cower in fear, an action I did not condone so to instill some faith in my men I headed to where the sound appeared to come from, but before I could even enter the darkness I was thrown back by something, slamming into the sarcophagus, breaking it into pieces. Feeling around I felt the decay of bone, then the cold of steel of a blade. Having lost my own sword while in mid flight, I grabbed the sword. Its length was nothing overly impressive, it was no more than 4 and a half feet, from the tip of the blade to the bottom of the hilt, but it glowed with a white light. This had to be Nostros’ own sword, the ‘Purifier’. Thought lost to the ages, the Purifier is an ancient evil banishing sword, it is said that evil cannot wield such a weapon, that they would be destroyed should it even try.
Holding the sword in my hands tightly the beast lumbered out from the shadows. A Marilith. An ancient evil, from days long since passed. A being half snake and half beautiful woman, and with 6 arms each holding a weapon of various shapes and sizes. Having walked the paths of the world beyond, nothing in this world holds any terror for me. I arose to my feet and issued a challenge to the demon swaying hypnotically from side to side before me. Apparently the creature had taken up residence in the temple, and believing us to be intruders, was ready to protect its lodging. Like my foe I was not going to give us with out a fight, seeing it as the most logic of options. This thing had an intense look in its eye. It was not going to let us leave peacefully. Ordering my men to stay back I alone approached it, and true to my nature issued a number of insulting taunts, though the Marilith remained largely unfazed. Having enough of my oratory the creature lunged forward and began swinging away at me. I managed to evade most of its attacks but those that landed torn through my armor like it was leather. Allowing the creature to attack, slashing at my flesh, it grew ever more confident in its ability to kill me, but also it substituted power for accuracy. A fact I took full advantage of. Striking hard and deep in the beast’s abdomen as it readied itself for another forceful blow. It fell to the ground. I dug my sword into its shoulder and turned the sword in the wound, widening it and taking delight in the pain and torment before decapitating the creature.
As I now found myself without any armor, I took it upon myself to don the armor of the once mighty Nostros, hoping that it might serve me as well as it had Nostros, in the tales I had heard of him. It was no doubt centuries old, but in surprisingly good condition. Even the blood-red cape had not yet withered away, and the plate mail had not yet lost its silvery shine. A runner came forward saying the storm had died down, and Karl Franz’s army was emerging.
The two sides met again and the fighting resumed almost to the point where you would have known it had even stopped. Being the warrior I am I found myself frequently in the thick of it. Hacking and slashing my opponents to pieces, I reveled in the massacre, enjoying the sheer brutality of it all. Drunk with bloodlust, a curse of the armor? Or was it my own deteriorated state of mind? I didn’t care, all that mattered was the piles of corpses I left in my wake. For 3 days and 3 nights we fought and killed each other, the soil littered with corpses, the rivers tainted with the blood of the fallen. On the fourth day with victory assured, it was swiftly taken from me. Like a rat fleeing a sinking ship, the army of Karl Franz, retreated. It seemed many had fled when a story they had heard had apparently become very real. Elfen Lied lives, the hundred man slayer, the undying, countless times he as fallen in battle, yet returned to life as if he had sustained only a small cut or graze.
Early in the year 1498 after hearing word of a small city nestled along the Dyre River in the province of Entsteig in the lands of Sanctuary, by the name of Deeha’Blothri was in need of some strong warriors to help quell an uprising. I decided to lend aid, as the city was strategically placed at a river fork and at the end of the road the lead south to the Tamoe Mountains and Khanduras. Let allow it was populated by many of Silversurfnstud’s faithful. A combined force of mercenaries and militia had taken up arms upon the people of the surround lands, and appeared as though ready to take the city by force, should they not be stopped. I took with me a large force of heavy armored cavalry, the Cavaliers, elite equestrian knights, the pride of the Royal Sylvanian Army. Few have withstood the onslaught they bring at full charge, the ground shaking as they ride.
The leader of this rabble Gorm Folcwald, was a monster of a man. He was almost as wide as he was tall, and a skilled warrior, and charismatic leader. His head would make a great adornment for the battlements of Deeha’Blothri, but he was not willing to part with it so easily. Whipping his men into a frenzy he sent wave after wave of them upon the gates of the city. The besieged residents did well to hold them off as long as they did until the relief force could arrive. It a little after midday on the twenty third day of the second month of 1498 when we arrived at the out skirts of the city, the journey from my homeland was long, we were tired and hungry. But we pressed on, lest the city be lost. Approaching the southern most gates, I, along with a small contingent of Cavaliers charged the rebels as the tried to break through the gate with a battering ram. Charging hard we broke their lines, crushing them mercilessly beneath our horse hooves, and cutting down the others, until only Gorm Folcwald was left alive. I dismounted, and walked straight up to him after signaling to everyone to leave his alone for me. A skilled warrior he was, but no match for me, A shame though he would have made a valued warrior to my causes, but I did not stand for his anarchy, I put the rebel leader’s head on a spike and placed it at the top of the bridge to the keep, to act as a warning to others. Liking what I saw of the city, it’s surroundings and of course its people, I decided to stay for a while.
The year 1500 shall mark my beginning of my third year spent in Deeha’Blothri.
7. Goals - Like all those who follow the Silversurfnstud, my ultimate goal is the destruction of Evil. But i am also looking for that one truly great opponent. And to find the Holy Avenger, blade Carsomyr,
Carsomyr is a weapon of legend, perhaps one of the most powerful blades ever forged on Faerun, though its origin and history is thought purposefully forgotten, such that the sword itself never overshadow the importance of the struggles that must be fought today. It is infused with the very essence of virtue, and requires as much from any paladin that would hope to wield it. The evils of the Realms must truly stand aside when this weapon is brought to bear, their magic dispelled with a word, steadfastly resisted with ease. Carsomyr also harbors a special distaste for the forces of evil and chaos, and such creatures must fear additional damage from its touch in battle.