>>5295367>100But the last treasure you uncover puts all the others to shame. You know this immediately, intuitively, the moment you extract it from where it is embedded, in the great rust-monster’s gullet. Your hand settles upon its hilt—yes, hilt, as of a sword—and your draw it forth from its scabbard of flesh and mucous. The filth of its consuming conquers slides away without issue the instant you raise it, leaving it polished and pristine.
Instantly, the eyes of every conscious ally are drawn to it, as you hold it aloft. Its blade is white and pure, a single-edged blade like those of the elves, and carved from a smoothed stone rather than forged or folded of steel. Its hilt is golden and black, a match to your armour by curious fate. It seems faintly to glow, and then brighter and brighter, until suddenly it flickers, shimmers, and stops. You lower it slowly, feeling its otherwise-light blade heavy with a sense of fate and fortune made manifest. You, as with your allies, stare at it, and see faintly an image of the phases of the moon—that celestial body which you have never seen, but of course know of—imprinted subtly upon the blade, with the full moon at the base, and the shadow-equivalent, called ‘new moon’, at the tip.
“What is it?” the Pit-Guard asks, forgetting his pain in his awe.
You all turn to Paeris, for it is of obviously elven design. He is still looking at the sword wonderingly, and for a time doesn’t even register the expectant stares; when he does, it is with abashed uncertainty.
“I have no idea,” he admits. “But… The Drow may. It is certainly… Special.”
That it is. You can tell without being told. You wrap it in a layer of cloth, torn and proffered eagerly by Oluwadamilare from his own attire, to serve as a makeshift scabbard and to hide its faint radiance from those unworthy to see it.
Sorry for the delay, but I embarrassingly did not actually have a legendary item image ready for a roll of 100 