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Description

The Sanguine Spear is not named for blood (though they do tend to spill a lot of it), but for the burnished ruddy colour of it's orichalcum tip. When made in a form other than the traditional spear they have similar alliterative colour names, such as the Garnet Glaive in parts of Redoubt, the Blooded Bill in the Marches or the Crimson Corseque in Tassato. Some Highgborn cataphracts prefer to have the haft painted or lacquered stark white to contrast with the red-gold thrusting point.

These weapons are not for the squeamish; they are clearly intended to maim and kill lightly armoured opponents and magicians. The wielder of a sanguine spear may consequently receive a cool reception in parts of Urizen, or with anyone who places considerations of cruelty above their respect for the Empire.

Rules

  • Form: Pole-arm. Despite the name any pole-arm may be a sanguine spear.
  • Effect: Once per day you can use a hero point to call CLEAVE with this weapon.
  • Materials: Crafting a sanguine spear requires six ingots of orichalcum. It takes one month to make one of these items.
The top of the tower was freezing cold at all times of the year, but in the depths of winter it was a bitter, evil cold that drank the life of those who went up into it. Aelix had been chasing Artemis around Morrow for three days now, but now the criminal had gone to ground. The magistrate wished he had picked amore hospitable location for his lair.

The magician stood at the centre of the circle atop the tower, mage-armoured and chanting. An entire basket of mana-crystals sat atop a table by his side, and every few seconds he reached in and grabbed another, which quickly evaporated.

“I knew I’d find you here,” the young magistrate growled, the effect somewhat harmed by his chattering teeth, “Artemis of Ice-Point Spire, I’m here to arrest you for the murders of Nicosia and Castor, also of Ice-Point Spire, and for theft, arson and assault against Imperial magistrates and their deputies. For your own sake, I recommend you come without a fight.”

Artemis smiled at him, a smile that did not reach his eyes, and raised his hands high, full of mana crystals. With a blinding flash, they evaporated, and the room shook slightly – though whether from the spell’s completion or the gale outside, Aelix couldn’t be sure.

“Silly boy. I have fulfilled my end of my bargain now, and soon Sorin will fulfil his. I have survived his tests of hate and loss, and you will die up here, alone and unregarded, and I will walk out onto the Black Plateau and continue my research where I will not be interrupted by fools with delusions of morality.” He readied his staff.

Aelix brought his spear up to a defensive posture and felt its warmth in his hands. It was the only warm thing in the room, and that gave him courage. He was here as the agent of the Empire, and of the rest of the world, and no mad ritualist could claim supremacy over the law. Especially not a murderer. With strength welling up inside him, Aelix lifted his spear high, and before Artemis could finish casting, plunged it into his chest with force that surprised even him.

Aelix carried his quarry back down the stairs with numb hands, leaving the garnet glaive in the ritual-room. Whether it would be there when he got back, or in the hands of a furious Herald of Winter, he did not know, but he had Artemis, and nobody would protest the cost of bringing him in. The old man was still alive when they reached the bottom of the staircase, and the swift approach of Livia and Marcellus told him that they’d decided to take his hunch seriously at last.

The three magistrates carried him off to find a physick, and then he would stand trial for his crimes. And then they would open a portal, and speak with Sorin if they could, and see what the old man wanted to call off the terrible storm that Artemis had called down...