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Description

A burnished rampart, sometimes called an Undying Shield, a Brazen Shield or occasionally even an Orichalcum Shield is most often made of metal, with an ambergelt finish. The shield itself is extremely difficult to permanently destroy without the use of potent magic.

It was first devised by the runesmiths of the Steinr to test the resolve of young warriors. Many cocky youngsters would claim that if only their shields had not been shattered by the hammers of the trolls, they would have held the line until their deaths. Tired of such boasting, a Runesmith named Thyra created the first Undying Shields and offered them such warriors, telling him that if true heroism burned in their souls, then such a shield would never fail them. Some were worthy of the shields' magic while some fled with little but splinters.

A burnished rampart may be engraved with the rune Pallas, often inlaid in gold or a gold-orichalcum alloy. Some bearers will mark their shields with paint to show how often it had been broken and repaired, as a display of their determination and dedication to the Virtue of Pride.

Rules

Dafyth rocked backwards under the strength of the blow, the orc’s great weapon swept thunderous blows as the Navarri warrior struggled to raise his shield to block each strike. The shield was a fine piece of work, the metal embossed with twisting roots and flowering vines picked out along it in shining ambergelt. He was sure something had broken in his arm from the last block though and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on.

The orc could see the human warrior was tiring and followed a sweeping blow of its sword with a swift elbow to the face, shattering teeth with the armoured limb and sending the Navarr sprawling to the ground. Dafyth looked up at the orc, spitting broken teeth and blood, as it raised its weapon for one final strike. With a feral roar it brought the sword down, the Navarr warrior barely had time to pull his shield over his body before the blow fell. The shield split neatly in two pieces, surviving just long enough to protect the young Thorn from a killing strike.

Dafyth rolled away and grabbed a handful of dirt from the floor and flung it into the eyes of his attacker earning him precious seconds. With that he ran, carrying both pieces of the broken shield with him.

After a hundred yard sprint, he ducked behind a thorny bush, the clanking sound of rusted orc armour lumbering after him. He looked at his broken shield and silently thanked the distant artisan who had crafted it for him. He tugged sharply on the fine roots around him yanking them from the ground and hastily wrapping them around the two halves of the broken shield and reciting the words that the crafter had drilled into him.

In an instant the two halves clicked back together as if time was rewinding, the knotty roots melding with the shield until they seemed as if they had always been part of it. Dafyth smiled a crack-toothed smile which coupled with the bloody war paint gave a visage as ugly as any orc.

He turned to face his pursuer and with a furious war cry he charged …