The Sworn Blade
Group: Lord of the Rings · Tag: pc_weaponmaster · Priority: Lowest
| ID | Journal text | Awarded by | |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Halmir the Grey, keeper of the rolls of the old orders, has named the Weapon Masters' trial. Below the white walls of Minas Tirith the Guard keeps its training row -- scarred practice posts that have taken the cuts of every swordmaster Gondor ever raised. I am to strike the first post and cut my notch with the weapon my soul is sworn to -- my chosen weapon, the one my hand has mastered -- and no other. Bare hands or a borrowed blade will earn nothing from the wood. The notch I cut must go back to Halmir at the Well of Eru. | q_wpm_start | |
| 2 | At the training row below Minas Tirith my sworn blade went through the seasoned oak in one stroke, and the post gave up a notch -- a chip of scarred wood with a century of other masters' cuts in the grain. It goes back to Halmir at the Well of Eru. | q_wpm_dummy | |
| 3 | final | Halmir read the grain of the notch the way other men read letters: one stroke, one blade, no second mark beside it. The Weapon Masters count me among them now -- one blade, one life. He gave me the Buckle of the Sworn Blade, and the training row below Minas Tirith keeps my cut with all the others. | q_wpm_finish |