Markus’ Needle
A cold rain fell upon the cobblestones courtyard of Harrowgate Castle, and trickled down the weathered steps of the palace keep onto the feet of the procession that had stopped there. The Imperial standard was kept dry by an enchantment, but the soldiers holding it were soaked as were their Yeoman companions. Behind them, a carriage waited in the rain, jet black emblazoned with bright green and white eagle insignia. The black horses reined to it stomped and snorted apathetically, their heavy breaths white in the cold autumn rain.
Moments later, the stillness of the tired castle was broken by noise. In the silence of the cold morning air, footsteps resounded upon the steps of the palace. The Yeomen dismounted and walked with practice grace to the ornate carriage doors, stretching out a waterproof covering for the occupant as he stepped down through the opened door.
Ricard Parvellion, third of his name and Regent of Verdon, smoothed out his bright green embroidered black velvet longcoat. His brown hair was arranged in neat curls falling to just below his jawline, and his thin mustache expertly groomed across the top half of his lip. The bright green eyes typical of the Parvellion family dynasty showed brightly behind luxuriant eyelashes, even in the cold rain. After taking a moment to thank the Yeomen, Ricard looked upwards towards the approaching group.
A red and black clad honor guard descended the palace steps, their footfalls in practices synchrony in square formation around four Green-cloaked Yeomen and four clad attachés clad in Red and White uniforms, one of whom held aloft a red and black umbrella. Just below its dripping edge, a red bearded man in black and white military dress with red epaulets and sash peered down at the Regent and his cohort. As they reached the bottom step, the front guards stepped aside in ranks forming a path, halberds held at attention. The umbrella tilted back slightly as the soldierly man stepped forward to greet the Regent of Verdon. In practiced manner, Ricard bowed first, then the Prince Regent.
“His Excellency Prince Regent Macragge Fallon,” lilted Ricard politely, hand outstretched for a handshake, “how are you liking your new title?”
Fallon hesitated for the briefest moment and clasped the Verdonese Noble’s hand firmly. His auburn hair was close cropped at the sides and combed over a freckled forehead jutting out over alert, dark brown eyes.
“I am honored to wear it,” Fallon said bluntly, “bestowed as it is by the State.”
“Yes, your Excellency, by the state,” the Green-eyed Regent of Verdon purred sibilantly as he returned the firm grasp of the Prince. “It is certainly more distinguished than ‘Military Governor’, at any rate.”
“Titles are important,” Fallon replied, as the two let go and allowed their hands to fall back to their sides, “but history is paramount.”
“I could not agree more...” responded the Regent, cocking his head slightly to the side.
Before Ricard could add anything else Fallon stepped forward just a bit, drawing wary stares from the Verdonese detachment, their eyes darting toward the Prince Regent beneath the dripping brims of their steel helms. “Speaking of which,” Fallon said, his accent exaggerated by his impatience, “May we see it now?”
The Regent of Verdon nodded with pat politesse. “Of course, your Excellency.” He gestured with his right hand, and four soldiers at the middle of the convoy went into action, two unlocking the steel-clad wagon they surrounded and two stepping inside for a moment. Seconds later they emerged with an engraved ebony case, topped by a clear crystal display cover. Carefully, they lowered it down to two other soldiers outside the armored wagon, who gingerly accepted the case and marched forward towards the two impatient statesmen and their companions.
As the Yeomen looked on, a couple of the Southmarquais attachés rushed forward, with eagerness overcoming their sense of decorum. Even the honor guard tilted their heads to look past their halberds. Some of the Verdonese soldiers' hands went instinctively to their weapons at the sudden movement, and Ricard stepped back, but Prince Regent Fallon outstretched his arms to his sides, barring the attachés from any further movement forth. He turned his head to glare at them angrily as the soldiers holding the ornamental box marched forward and the Verdonese party allowed them to pass between the two statesmen.
Prince Regent Fallon of New Southmark stepped forward solemnly, lowering his arms even as his assistants leaned forth to look past his muscular and ornamented frame. The one holding the Prince Regent’s umbrella hastened behind him, peering around his left elbow like a child. There, below the faintest reflection of Fallon’s face and beneath the spatters of rainwater, the newly elected ruler of Southmark could see Markus’ Needle lying on a bright green satin cushion.
It was a common-looking spear with a haft of solid ash wood, and a tip which had famously been reforged in Mithril. Fractal patterns radiated across the spearhead, whose gracefully rounded corners ran razorlike about a hand’s length to a sharp dagger point, like the leaf of some deadly and alien tree. No trace was visible of the blood of the countless men, elves, and monsters slain at its merciless touch. The green-blue metal glowed and glinted, rippling like a tiny portal to heaven.
“Home at last,” said Fallon, reaching out to touch the crystal cover.
Regent Ricard raised an open palm, head bowed in a respectful gesture of offering. “All these years,” he intoned, “we were simply holding onto it for you.”
Description
Markus' Needle is a long spear with a simple haft made of ash and a Mithril spearhead. The spearhead is 55 cm in length and curved on the bottom, with both sides sharpened and a piercing point. Since the spear's return to Southmark, a red and black pennant has been added below the spear tip as would have been the case during the time of its forging. The short length of the spear demonstrates its intended use as a mounted weapon, however it has also been used dismounted to devastating effect. The tip of the spear carries a magical enchantment such that whenever it draws blood, it fully and immediately inflicts a long-lasting or permanent paralysis on the target that can only be dispelled by magical means.History
Markus' Needle is rumored to be so old that it predates the human settlement of The Broken Horn , originating on Theamor. Markus, the legendary hero of Southmark, was said to have wielded the weapon in the conquest of that territory from the Dark Elves around 1500 PE. Legend has it that the spear originally had a steel tip, which broke in one of the last battles against Bo'Lein. According that legend Markus faced the Dark Elf Queen in single combat, and her heart was so cold and hardened by evil that it broke the spear's steel tip broke upon being pierced. It is said that the Mithril tip of Markus' Needle was reforged from that same Queen's dagger, which is where it gets its poisonous effect. Historical accounts first mention Markus' Needle in the possession of the King of Southmark in the year 1356. The account that states that it was a hereditary item and symbol of state brought into battle against revolting peasants in order to impress upon them their folly of rebelling against the king. The account states that the King slashed down across the right eyebrow of each rebel captured after the battle, scarring and paralyzing them. Apparently he imposed a fine of 300 silver pieces on anyone who healed a paralyzed peasant so scarred. Markus' Needle was used at least once in every war in Southmark's history up until its occupation by Verdon in 221 PE. Normally the spear would be wielded by the King himself, but sometimes a champion would be nominated to carry the spear into battle on the King's behalf. In 756 PE, one such champion betrayed the King by stabbing him with the spear after returning victorious from a hard-fought battle that the King had ordered against crushing odds. The King survived and was fully healed, but the coup failed. Once the usurper was apprehended, the King had him paralyzed with the spear and nailed to the door of his own castle alive. In 221 PE, when Verdon occupied Southmark, Harrowgate was under siege by rebels and a coalition of Elves that were backing them. In order to keep the artifact out of the Elves' hands, Markus' Needle was smuggled into Verdonese-controlled territory by Southmarquais loyalists. The Verdonese then took possession of the spear and kept it in the palace in Verdon City, where it was later moved to the quarters of the Military Governor of Southmark. Supposedly this was to symbolize the authority of state given to the Military Governor over its historical home. In 3 PE the Southmarquais liberationist and Ex-Millitary Governor Macragge Fallon outlined the Southmarquais conditions for joining the Union of Granmor with limited independence. One of these was the return of Markus' Needle to Harrowgate Castle by the end of the next year. Regent of Verdon (at that time an advisory title) Ricard Parvellion, brother of the King and soon-to-be Emperor Viridian XI, delivered the crown to Harrowgate personally. The spear is now in passed to the personal possession of each Prince Regent and carried to the executive chamber and public appearances by him or her as a symbol of state.
Item type
Weapon, Melee
Current Location
Related ethnicities
Owning Organization
Dimensions
4 meters long
Base Price
priceless
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