The Hundredth Vale
Just under the surface of Marcus’ right arm, lies a hair belonging to the unicorn. it represents order in it’s purest form. The possessor of the hair is constantly surrounded by a glowing orb of pattern and is nigh invulnerable to any Logrus effects(or Sorcery). This aura can cause discomfort up to severe pain to those susceptible to the use of pattern. If the user possesses pattern abilities, those abilities are intensified within the range of the aura surrounding the possessor.
The item takes a heavy toll on the user as run the risk of forever losing their own sense of self(identity), under the never-ending press of order. The long term effects are unknown as this is the first time a person has actually placed a hair from the unicorn into their own flesh, but Marcus has commented that at times he is not sure if he is acting of his own free will or is more and more just acting as an extension of the Unicorn itself.
I am……it. No, wait I am…Marcus.
Marcus woke again as if from the deepest of sleeps. He had the sense that some time had passed, but was uncertain if it had been a matter of an evening or minutes or longer. He took more than a few minutes gathering his wits. He stared contemplatively at the hair just under the surface of his right arm. His…friends(?), had advised he might want to see about removing the hair, but most days he feels as if that would be like removing his right arm altogether. Friends, he hears the words in his mind, and imagines there is supposed to be a sense of attachment or fondness along with that thought, but the emotions seem blocked as if he were feeling something through a heavy gauntlet-ed hand. He struggles to feel the emotions he knows he should feel when thinking about the new compatriots he has acquired, but the harder he tries the more those feelings slip like oil through his fingers. I am Marcus, I have friends, allies that I have fought beside, people that have entrusted me to protect them, I am Marcus. This he repeated over and over, until it felt as if a blade were sliding across his mind. Today, at least for now, he knew who he was, and he knew that order must be maintained at all cost, it was his calling, his duty, his sole purpose for being. With a single minded focus, armor was equipped, weapon and shield were taken into hand, the man, lost inside the armor.