Vassal Weapons Novels & Stories

he murmured, low enough that only I caught it because I was reading his lips. “Show them why I chose you” The words rooted themselves in my chest, a small, burning anchor against the tide of fear. Varric gestured, and attendants stepped forward, carrying a long table draped in black cloth. Upon it gleamed weapons of every shape and size—swords with jewel-studded hilts, spears with razor-sharp tips, axes heavy enough to fell a tree, and smaller blades, deadly in their simplicity. “Choose,” Varric commanded. “Not what is beautiful, not what is grand, but what will serve you best.”

These were an original invention of the brown Slayers of the south and were designed for climbing trees, but they were sometimes borrowed by the other clans for scaling castle walls. There were also several throwing knives, a pair of sharpened sai knives with their prongs curving fire-like, and a kusari-gama, which was a sickle at the end of a long chain. Vulcanus Slayers were renowned for their skill in wielding the kurasi-gama, which looked stunning when lit with their trademark flames. A curious thing was a pair of gloves with flint and steel attached to the palm of either, but then she recalled what Temujin said about red Slayers needing at least a spark within a hundred yards of them to

He should take this slow and steady. “Let’s see those weapons you were talking about.” Salj stared at the door where Yuki just left through for a few seconds. Then he sighed and went to the closet. He took out several things, a claymore, a bow, a sword, and a staff which he gently placed on the table. The weapons were all completely black with wooden texture and appearance, except for the handles and guards. The weapons all had a series of exactly 10 runic writings engraved on them.

Case said, turning the tablet toward them. The external cameras showed a single figure standing in the center of the burning basin. The snow around the figure was melting into black slush. He wasn't wearing armor. He wore a simple, tattered shroud of white linen. He was tall, gaunt, and his skin was a translucent, glowing marble. He didn't have eyes, only two pits of swirling, abyssal violet light. This was the man Julian had tried to copy. This was the source of the Voss blood, pulled from the ice decades ago. The Alpha.