Quoth the Raven

The Lance of Longinus

Nothing more than a spear, a lance with a long birchwood staff, and a soft iron shod tip. Yet, it became so much more, an artifact of the highest power for its type. By spilling the blood of an immortal, a son of God, this weapon became the Spear of Destiny.

Who would dare think that the ichor of the highly blessed could wrought such weaponry, bestowing the powers of artifice upon mortally created, mundane objects. Imbued with the powers of heaven, the lance became a weapon of great and feared power.

Any who wield the lance are undefeatable in battle. For so long as they wield the spear, their power is amplified, their constitution invigorated, their prowess at battle increased. Many are the kings, emperors, and shahs that have seized power at the point of this weapon. And many still are the kingdoms that have fallen, for want of controlling it.

It was upon my travels, across dimensional alternatives, in a universe where magic is but a weak echo, and the gods are silent in mortal lives, that I first sensed it. Hidden for centuries in a museum, in an exhibit, in plain sight. It's true power ungaugeable to the people of its world and time.

Calling. It had pulled me to it. Demanding use. Expecting reprieve from its long period of inactivity. Its hunger for action was insatiable. Its power limitless. It was to be mine. For a time.

Now it resides here, in this time, in this realm. Wielded by myself, the Herald of Fate, and rightful owner of the Spear of Destiny. But who else would you expect to wield it, after all?

I have fashioned many copies of the artifact since, raining the realms with these lesser powered weapons from time to time. Their true power remaining forever hidden from those that use them. Well... at least as long as I wish it to remain a secret, that is.