A Triumphant Blade is a popular enchanted weapon, used throughout the Empire in various forms. A heroic individual may enhance their reservoir of inner strength directly, but with a little effort anyone can benefit from the fire the weapon kindles in their soul. In addition to allowing even the meekest senator to stand firm in the face of malign spiritual presences, it is sometimes coupled with other enchanted items such as Mediator's Mail to serve as a mystical 'power source' for the second item.

A Dawnish Triumphant Blade often bears the rune Tykonus, while a Winterfolk-forged axe or sword is just as likely to bear Gralm or Ull, the runes associated with fate and chance. In Varushka, a Schlacta's Axe is a popular weapon bought by rich boyars for their favoured captains, while the Freeborn and officers of the Free Companies of the League alike are known to favour beautifully crafted and decorated Triumphant Blades as marks of office.


  • Form: Weapon. Takes the form of a one-handed weapon. You must be wielding this weapon to use its magical properties.
  • Requirement: Any character can bond to this item.
  • Effect: You gain one additional hero point.
  • Materials: Crafting a Triumphant Blade requires ten units of green iron and four ingots of orichalcum. It takes one month to make one of these items.
“You 'ear about ole crazy Nicholas, over in Gauk, that small village, the one by the bend with the tree what looks like ‘orse? Yeah him. That one what reads all them books ‘n’ all that ‘bout things whats ‘appened years back?”

The Marcher wiped a patch of ale foam from his beard before continuing.

“Well ‘e say Feni up ‘n’ raided his farm so they did, reckons they was in after all his books ‘n’ that cos it hadn’t stopped raining for a month and there weren’t a dry twig in all o’the Empire. Reckons they was gunna use ‘em all for burnin. Well ole Nicholas said ‘e weren’t ‘aving none o’it. Said ‘e picked up his old log-axe made by his mam it was, back when we ‘ad all them good berries that year. They said she ‘ad a bit o’summer blood in her, funny way o’looking at ya she ‘ad.

"Anyway, ‘e reckons he chased off three o’the buggers with naught but an ale tankard to cover ‘is modesty. Reckons he knocked the biggest one clean off ‘is feet an’ near split him in two, t’others ran off tail between their legs, tall as a barn door ‘e said the Feni was, said that the ole summer magic his mam mixed in the axe-wood what ‘elped him. That’s what ‘e says anyway”

The man finished speaking and returned to his drink, his companion screwed up his face for a moment, taking in the details of the story and scratching his head in contemplation before asking a question.

“So….’owd he keep his tankard on?”