The Iron Crown

A simple hand-crafted iron crown, to be worn by the ruler Elwain.

Category:
headgear
Description:

A simple crown, beaten by hand to form a circle resembling branches.

Powers

Whomever wears this crown recives both the curses and the blessing of Ungwen.

Firstly, if the wearer is of the Ungwen line he receives two blessings and one curse.
Blessing: The Iron Will – The wearer gains +5 to any roll to resist coercion.
Blessing: The Iron Sword – Any sword held in his hand seems sharper and hits harder. Any sword does +2 damage.
Curse: The Weight of Iron – The Iron Crown wears heavily on a the wearers head, it was never meant to be worn by a mortal. The wearer seems to be burdened by invisible forces and looks weak and frail. Each time the crown is worn, the wearer gets to roll once more for ageing during the winter. If the crown is used more than once each year, roll 1D6.
1-4: the user receives another ageing-roll, same as the first time.
5: The elven blood grows weak, and the crown does not recognise it’s wearer. The crown is worn as if the user was not of Ungwen line. The wearer can try again next year.
6: The crown crumbles to pieces, and the oath is broken. The line of Elwynn is lost unless it is reforged by The Iron King himself, an unlikely event.

Secondly, if the wearer is not of the Ungwen line he receives one blessing and three curses.
Blessing: The Iron Will – The wearer gains +5 to any roll to resist coercion.
Curse: The Dagger of Rust – Any wound received while wearing this crown will automatically become infected!
Curse: The Chains of Vices – The Ungwen vices chains the wearer. Even when the crown is no longer worn, the effects stay with whomever dared to use it for the rest of the year. All rolls for Suspicious, Cruel, Deceitful, Selfish and Vengeful receive a +5.
Curse: The Weight of Iron – The Iron Crown wears heavily on a the wearers head, it was never meant to be worn by a mortal. The wearer seems to be burdened by invisible forces and looks weak and frail. Each time the crown is worn, the wearer gets to roll once more for ageing during the winter. If the crown is used more than once each year, roll 1D6.
1-4: the user receives another ageing-roll, same as the first time.
5: The elven blood grows weak, and the crown does not recognise it’s wearer. The crown is worn as if the user was not of Ungwen line. The wearer can try again next year.
6: The crown crumbles to pieces, and the oath is broken. The line of Elwynn is lost unless it is reforged by The Iron King himself, an unlikely event.

Thirdly, if the wearer is the heir of the Ungwen line. He can call back the forest curse, and heal his land.

Additionally, the wearer might draw a few strange looks when wearing such a strange thing on his head. -5 to social rolls at storyteller discretion.

Bio:

History

This crown is said to have been forged from the sword of an ancient warrior god. It was made by hand from a prince from the elvish line Ungwen, after having been freed from the prison his father held him in by queen Angharad. The crown was long a symbol of the will to withstand the powers of your own vices.

But as the prince had fled from his fathers grasp, he lost his immortality, and many years later he fell ill and died.

The queen Angharad who had freed him, swore an oath to marry a descendant of the Ungwen line, because she knew there was good in them, despite the evil of the Iron King.

Many ages later, the last descendant of Ungwen died, and no more children were born that Angharad could marry. She passed the crown to a young mortal descendant that she found. Elwenndr, the son of Elwynn, who carried the blood of Ungwen through his fathers night with Ungwens daughter. He was but a mortal man, but the elvish blod ran in his veins. And the oath could be fullfilled.

It is said that the rightful owner of this crown shall be the ruler of Elwain land.

The saga of the Iron Crown, as sung by Niara

On the classic shore of Britain,
‘Neath a headland steep and bold,
Which, though leaden at the dawning,
In the sunset turns to gold,
Nestles beautiful Naddar,
Still invested with renown
By the legend that connects it
With the Elwains’ Iron Crown.

Way beyond it in the faerie
Stands the castle, old and gray,
With its battlements in ruin
And its towers in decay;
But a subtle charm still lingers
Round that residence sublime,
And the beauty of its story
Is triumphant over time.

As we trace its ancient pavement,
As we tread its roofless halls,
How alluring is the figure
Which this castle still recalls!
For ’tis Queen Angharadis
Whom its ruined arches frame,
And the passing breeze seems laden
With the music of her name.

As we gaze from ivied ramparts
On the storied lake below,
We forget the world about us
For the world of long ago,
When the Queens men had descended
From the castle to the plain,
And all land lay mourning
For the thousands of her slain;

When their brave, ambitious leader,
Not content to make her hold
By these mystic lakes of beauty,
Had resolved to capture gold!
No longer could Ungwens legions
Her restless course withstand,
And the road lay open, southward,
To the conquest of the land.

When her valiant host stood ready
And impatient for the start,
What reversed their queen’s decision?
What so changed the witch’s heart?
’Twas the passionate entreaty
Of her enemies son,—a weakly man;
’Twas the torture of the pagan
By the lowly Ungwen king.

Through her magic Ungwens captured son
From the threatened doom was freed;
By her aid the bond was strengthened
As the king professed its creed;
And Ungwens’s great successor,
Thus preserved from grievous loss,
Gave to her, his faithful lover,
A true relic of the Gods.

What to pious Angharadis
Could be recompense more sweet
Than the sword, forever sacred,
That once strew Camala’s seat?
Which, when rounded to a circlet,
(To fine wire beaten down,)
Then became the precious basis
Of the Ungwens’ Iron Crown.

Through the ages that have followed
What a line of the Renowned
Have been proud to wear this emblem,
As they, each in turn, were crowned!
Elwenndr, Arh Cierhon, Apora,
Mortal warriors by the score,
And at last poor King Gaharet,
Basely slain at Modrons door!

Since that coronet was fashioned
Many centuries have passed
O’er the castle by Lake light,
Where the good queen breathes there still;
And the Crown is still at Naddar,
And its iron basic line
Tells the world of ancient glory
And the vice of the divine.

The Iron Crown

A tale of Blood and Honour ikabodo