On Shardbands, Bad Ideas, and an Adventurer’s Equipment – Magic Systems in Elyndor

From the Writings of Tarric Vethrin

A young adventurer once walked into my tavern. Maybe early twenties. A massive sword on his back. Far too big, of course. The boy had to turn sideways just to get through the door. He probably considered it impressive. The guests considered it entertainment. Poor kid.

He sat down in the middle of the tavern, ordered the most expensive wine he clearly could not afford, and began loudly talking about monsters that were supposedly “no real challenge.” Nobody believed him. What actually gave him away, however, was something else: he was missing a shardband.

Every adventurer has one. At least every adventurer who plans to survive their adventures. Not only adventurers, though – these things are extremely useful. But most people who leave the safe roads without a shardband fall into one of three categories: truly stupid, truly poor, or convinced that rules are more like suggestions. The last group rarely lasts long.

And with that, it was immediately clear that the young adventurer had either made up his story or had a disturbingly short life expectancy. I’m betting on both.

There is this romantic idea of adventurers. Swords on their backs. Dramatic cloaks. Staring into sunsets as if someone is about to start playing sad music. Of course weapons are part of the equipment. Swords. Daggers. Bows. Axes, if someone desperately wants attention – or happens to be a dwarf, which is sometimes surprisingly hard to tell apart. And a sharp tongue is also part of most people’s standard equipment. Usually right next to bad decisions.

The truly experienced adventurers, the ones for whom “no challenge” doesn’t immediately sound like a lie, are rarely recognized by their weapons. But by how many magic systems they are simultaneously running without accidentally exploding.

The most important of these is the shardband. A crystal-based system worn on the forearm, used by almost anyone who regularly travels outside safe roads. Maybe it helps to put it more simply: a shardband is not jewelry. Not a status symbol. And not a single uniform object everyone carries. It is more like a carrier. A frame. A kind of tool handle into which different crystalline modules are inserted.

If you see someone wearing a leather band on their forearm with glowing points and a shimmering, flat field of light – you are looking at a shardband. This “window” of light displays information, connects voices, or establishes links. The glowing points are the modules themselves, fitted into mounts made of metal or obsidian, depending on preference or wealth.

These modules are called shards. And no – they are not all the same. There are different types depending on what you need out in the field. They can be lost. They can be replaced. And yes, if you have enough money, you can simply buy the right ones. Surprisingly few people do. Maybe because at some point it stops feeling like preparation and starts feeling like an escape plan.

And yes – they wear down. Not like metal rusting. More like a muscle being overworked. Or a mind carrying too many voices at once. Because they only function when charged with magic. No magic – no shard. Simple as that. If you don’t eat, you don’t run far either. Or at all.

A shardband usually has four slots. You rarely need more. And most people can’t handle more anyway. Anything beyond that usually ends with people convinced they can “keep everything under control at the same time.” Until they can’t. And explode or worse.

Most people carry at least one communication shard. Very useful for coordinating during combat over distance or calling for help. Less useful when that same help is currently in trouble and tells you so.

Then there are memory shards. Essentially outsourced magical reserves. Very popular among people who don’t want to burn through their own magic mid-fight. Or among dwarves. Dwarves have no natural magic and instead rely on charged crystal storage. Works surprisingly well. Until someone forgets to recharge them. And trust me – nothing looks more desperate than a dwarf whose shardband has suddenly decided today is not a good day for magic. I should probably recharge mine as well. I’ll definitely remember that – hopefully.

Combat shards are the part authorities constantly try to regulate. Target assistance. field analysis. magic detection. status readings. That sort of thing. Officially for safety. Unofficially because people get very nervous when adventurers start seeing their enemies before those enemies have even decided to be dangerous.

And then there are monocles. Independent magic systems with their own shards. Usually only one slot. For dwarves or people without their own magic, essentially… not very useful. They analyze body language, magic structures, or behavioral patterns. Very useful. And an excellent way to find out how many people suddenly get nervous when they think they are being seen through.

The better variants are usually found on black markets. Or with nobles. Which is essentially the same thing – just with better wine and less conscience.

There was a time when shards that could see through walls and clothing were very popular. Among adventurers. Scouts. People with questionable interests. Until someone developed a counter-shard that showed those users their worst nightmare. After that, the problem solved itself rather quickly. Some ideas only need one good consequence.

The problem with all these systems is always the same: they drain the user’s magic. The more you run at once, the higher the strain. And magic unfortunately does not care whether it is a convenient moment to collapse. Many adventurers have died because their shardband simply stopped responding in the middle of a fight. Bad luck. Happens more often than it should.

By the way, the boy with the large sword later left the tavern with a group of mercenaries. They bought him a shardband first. Then a second sword – smaller, so it doesn’t knock him over every time he draws it. I consider that progress.

— Tarric Vethrin