A Biting Blade is a respectable weapon that grants additional power to a skilled soldier, as well as offering the ability to strike a significant blow to an individual who is not a professional warrior. The weapon is sometimes simply referred to as an Orichalcum Blade or (in the poetry of Wintermark) a Dawnfire Blade or Duskfire Blade in reference to the slight reddish tinge to the metal produced by alloying orichalcum with steel.

The Biting Blade is the weapon many common folk think of then they think of a traditional 'magic sword.' Artisans in Wintermark especially like to inscribe the rune Jotra on a biting blade, and Dawnish crafters often shape the pommel into the head of a gryphon or engrave one onto the blade directly.


  • 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: Once per day, you may call CLEAVE with this one-handed weapon.
  • Materials: Crafting a Biting Blade requires seven units of orichalcum. It takes one month to make one of these items.
The ragged stranger watched as the Steinr smiths completed their long forging, the chant rising and falling as they hammered at the hot metal one last time. Sing-song voices echoed strangely around the forge as the golden-red rays of a winter's sun sank slowly behind the mountains.

"Red the fires of the forge
Red the blade and red its thirsts
Red the wine that it drinks so deep
Red the mouths that it opens wide
Red the dying light of day
Red its dreams"

With one last chorus of hammer-strikes the blade was gathered up in tongs and a great cloud of steam rose up with a hissing noise into the dusk air. A few more moments of examination and testing and the Steinr women turned to the stranger, offering the fruit of their long labours. The eldest smith spoke for them all, "The debt is settled, outlander, you have your blade. Make no mistake, we have felt this one's skein - it is a crow-feeder, a widow-maker, a flesh-cutter and a spiller of blood. Bond yourself to this, and you'll know nothing but strife for the rest of your days."

The ragged man leaned forward and took the blade in one scarred hand. Even with an unwrapped hilt and before cleaning and sharpening, he fancied he could feel the proficiency of murder this thing represented - a yearning toward mayhem and death. He hissed a breath inwards through his remaining teeth. Oh yes, this would do most excellently for his revenge...