Helm of the Forsakened Heroine

Summary

For whom naught but salvation of others matters.

— The identifying inscription within the Helm of the Forsakened Heroine.

  An item of infamous nature and changing appearances, the Helm of the Forsakened Heroine is identified by two specific details: the interior blue, glowing inscription, and the impenetrable darkness contained within the Helm itself. No light pierces through, yet somehow the words are always readable. The Helm changes to match the appearance of other helms that might be in use, letting it blend in among them with insidious ease.   One of its more common appearances is that of a full head-protecting steel plate, adorned with a V-shaped nose-guard, and two broken off winglets over the ears. It's stylistically similar to something from ancient Aerthen, leading some to speculate that land as its possible place of origin.   The Helm is a difficult relic to track, with little understood about its true nature. Multiple conflicting reports emerge from ancient history, if anything uniquely identifible can be found. Its first generally agreed upon appearance was at the eastern side of Immensio. An ashen pile and shredded armor sat amongst a tide of slain undead, befitting the site of a heroine's final stand. No one knew who might've fought such a courageous battle, nor was anything left to identify them by. The Helm, however, lingered among the ashes, its inscription glowing.   It began appearing sporadically in other places: Nerzin, Nemma, Akpahm, and even Honokom. A perturbed jiuweihu scholar started tracking the artifact, trying to make sense of 'how it got around so much'. The more bizarre problem became that no one was known to have worn it.   Despite its numerous appearances at battlefields, doomed hamlets, and righteous last stands, there was no record of its wearers. Even those present at the conflicts who attest to having seen it do not remember the wearer at all. They knew they existed–a man, a woman, someone disguised in full body armor; these descriptions are endless. Not one remembers their actual identity. The findings stirred interest in many scholarly communities, but the artifact's otherwise lack of distinctive power made it fall by the wayside.   Centuries later, a disciple of that same scholar chased after a report of the Helm's emergence. An on-going battle in Lophern between disparate villages and the Forsaken raged. The vast undead were headed by the heinous Vyarn, a notorious lich. The disciple witnessed the lich's rampage in secret, and the Helm appeared, worn by a human. There wasnt much to her scrawny, malnourished self but chainmail, a sword, and shield; dirty, in disrepair, and obviously salvaged from someone else. She stood alone before Vyarn's army, and the lich approached with rambunctious laughter. At least, until he saw the Helm.   His words became a famous testimony that soon followed after the Helm itself.  

Is this it, then?   Is this your decision?   Do you even understand the price you have paid? Alive, you could've fled elsewhere and rebuilt your life. Bitter, hateful, and angry, but it would have been a life. Dead, you could have served me as yet another damned soul, to be used and discarded. Both are paths to walk upon, and you have denied both.   Instead, you forsake your own name. You forsake the bloodline gifted to you by your mother. Your entire lineage of uncounted generations forever broken by your hand. No one will remember you. No one will bury you, or light a candle, or mourn your passing. Everything you could've had, you forsook.   For what?   To stand before me and raise that pathetic sword?   For their sake?   Incredible.

— Vyarn speaking to a Forsakened Heroine. He was noted that, in a very uncharacteristic way, he both pitied and sympathized with a foe who never spoke once back to him. His familiarity with the Helm, however, remained painfully evident.

  According to the disciple's report, the battle that followed should've been incredibly one-sided. Despite the grevious wounds and comical degree to which she was outmatched, the Helm-wearing heroine fought on. She cleaved through Varyn's army, reached the lich himself, and so struck him down. Since his phylactery wasn't destroyed, Varyn is thought to have reformed somewhere else, but notably hasn't made a public appearance in a long time.   The disciple tried to speak with the heroine. However, at the brink of death, the heroine turned to ashen dust, only their armor and the Helm left behind. Whether or not that was a result of the battle or something else wasn't clear. The disciple gathered the Helm and returned home to their mistress' library. For all their efforts of trying to study it, they found no more answers as to its nature, or the seeming price that must be paid.   Years later, the Helm vanished from its vault. Although fearing a thief had stolen it, no evidence arose of the vault or its security ever being disturbed. It was simply as if it had never been there at all in the first place.