Shaman Jaekel’s dagger is almost never seen in combat. You’re far more likely to find him wielding it against a block of wood than an enemy. His carvings are unmatched—delicate, intricate, and often sacred. Indeed, he is personally responsible for crafting the wooden pommels and hilts of many fine blades across the realm.
The blade itself, however, looks suspiciously similar to Traysian steel—a material prohibited by Imperial decree. Rarer still is to see Traysian alloy in the hands of a foreigner, and yet the cheerful Royal Shaman wields it casually, as if it were no more than a simple, old knife.
When I once asked him about the provenance of his blade, Jaekel simply smiled and said—with what seemed wholehearted honesty:
“I haven’t a clue.”
Shaman Jaekel’s dagger is almost never seen in combat. You’re far more likely to find him wielding it against a block of wood than an enemy. His carvings are unmatched—delicate, intricate, and often sacred. Indeed, he is personally responsible for crafting the wooden pommels and hilts of many fine blades across the realm. The blade itself, however, looks suspiciously similar to Traysian steel—a material prohibited by Imperial decree. Rarer still is to see Traysian alloy in the hands of a foreigner, and yet the cheerful Royal Shaman wields it casually, as if it were no more than a simple, old knife.
When I once asked him about the provenance of his blade, Jaekel simply smiled and said—with what seemed wholehearted honesty:
“I haven’t a clue.”
Shaman Jaekel’s dagger is almost never seen in combat. You’re far more likely to find him wielding it against a block of wood than an enemy. His carvings are unmatched—delicate, intricate, and often sacred. Indeed, he is personally responsible for crafting the wooden pommels and hilts of many fine blades across the realm. The blade itself, however, looks suspiciously similar to Traysian steel—a material prohibited by Imperial decree. Rarer still is to see Traysian alloy in the hands of a foreigner, and yet the cheerful Royal Shaman wields it casually, as if it were no more than a simple, old knife.
When I once asked him about the provenance of his blade, Jaekel simply smiled and said—with what seemed wholehearted honesty:
“I haven’t a clue.”
