Stormcaller

Stormcaller is the ancestral valyrian steel sword of House Durrandon, lost upon the death of the legendary Storm Prince. It came eventually to be wielded by Selwyn Storm, who possesses it to this day.

Appearance
An unconventional weapon, Stormcaller stands out as but one of its kind, a peerless product of superior Valyrian craftsmanship. Its blade ripples in the raw, radiant bright yellow quality of a lightning bolt; it is said that the blade possesses the power to call on and command the might of a great thunderstorm. The rain-guard and twisting cross guard which bend in the direction of the blade come together as one, medium teardrop-shaped sapphires embedded on either side just below the position at which the guard meets the blade. The cross guard consists of three messages inscribed in High Valyrian text, from left to right reading Zūgagon se jelmāzma/ syt pryjagon māzigon/ dovodedha hen zȳha qrinuntys or Beware the maelstrom/For ruination is wrought/Indiscriminate of its victims.

The thirty-five inch blade itself is relatively thin at the base, curving out further into its full stature and culminating in a deadly point. Ending in an equally formidable, eternal edge, a broad yet shallow thinner and fine central ridge run the length of the razor-sharp blade.

A sizable haft provides the perfect counterweight for the otherwise heavy valyrian steel sword; a thick, supple dyed cobalt leather grip to match the embedded sapphires makes the weapon easy to wield. The extended pommel widens at the end of the sword, forming a widened egg-like shape.

Stormcaller's beautiful scabbard, carved of dragonbone and treated a shimmering white and gold, glitters when exposed to sunlight. On closer inspection, one may make note of the faint impressions upon its surface, shaped like steamy clouds over the volcanic peninsula of Valyria.

Stormcaller is impervious and bereft of any imperfection, but it gives off an almost sinister aura. As if under the shadow of a controlling eye, its wielder may soon find himself committing deeds he would never before have considered.

History
Though the myths of Stormcaller's legacy vary on the tongues of every chronicler to recite them, most tend to agree on one thing: thousands of years before the doom, a young Durrandon, third son of the ruling Storm King, was sent on an expedition. The dutiful man was given a great wealth of gold to have forged for the house a peerless blade of valyrian steel; he did not return. Instead, upon the creation of the blade, the Storm Prince decided it must be tempered on the blood of men, and blood it would have.

The Storm Prince began his test by first slaying the smith of the blade; some stories make him out to have been a nobleman of the Freehold, while others paint him a famed spellweaver, capable of laying powerful enchantments upon his crafts. Some cite this to be connected to inscriptions and marks bearing similarity between works, but whatever the case, these masterful products born of his extensive labour have been lost to the wild winds of time and the greed of men.

Although the Freehold was the greatest power of the era, tales told by those tracing ancestry to the storied peninsula whisper of the devastation that the Westerosi man caused. Supposedly, the Storm Prince called down lightning to his blade in a fierce battle with a powerful dragonlord, discharging a great blue bolt to strike down the warrior from his fiery mount.

According to the tales, after spilling much blood in Valyria, the Storm Prince moved on to Slaver's Bay. He didn't remain long, though--his eyes were fixed on a much greater target. He did, however, fight as part of a great competition of pit fighting in Meereen, and by all accounts left little room for competition. As the Storm Prince moved east, legends of his prowess spread on hushed lips with every man he left dead in his wake.

Finally, far to the east, in the Golden Empire of Yi Ti did the Storm Prince find his mark. The one whose blood would truly temper Stormcaller, whose essence of life would quench the thirst--though whose it was, none can say. Did the Storm Prince hunger still? Or had his soul yearned for home, looking to the west and crying for leaving? Little did it matter, as for whatever reason, the ambition of the blade lead him to the palace of the God-Emperor, Chai Duq. The Storm Prince presented himself as a friend and diplomat, the story says, dining with the yellow emperor and his wife, a noblewoman of Valyria.

As they dined, however, the empress' dragon did stir, seeming somehow to know the falsity the Storm Prince's words so charismatically concealed. As soon as the ancient creature huffed, the Storm Prince sprung to his feet, cutting down the God Emperor's wife with a swift flick of the wrist; he turned then to the dragon, and if the tale holds true, dashed parallel to it, nimbly evading a smouldering blast of flame, and with a single mighty heft cut the head clean off.

His blade drenched in blood, the Storm Prince pursued the fleeing emperor, whose cries for help roused no man. Perhaps some had heard the call, but if so their arrival would have been too late to save the man doomed by the ambition of another. A few storytellers state that the Storm Prince recited an incantation before driving Stormcaller into the emperor's heart, but all can agree that once the blade had bathed in the blood of the one whose name begets godhood, his mission was complete. Only, the legend says the blade yearned still; the Storm Prince allegedly wandered Essos for thousands of years, cursed with undeath until he could find the one to temper Stormcaller.

Recent Events
Ser Selwyn Storm received Stormcaller as a reward for escorting a mysterious old man to Norvos. The man disappeared seemingly into thin air upon bequeathing Selwyn the blade.

Selwyn Storm plunged Stormcaller into the heart of Chai Dong, a rebelling warlord of Yi Ti and distant descendant of the yellow emperor Chai Duq, during the Battle of the Northern Foothills.