Serivemn

Description
Serivemn ( Sair-iv-m, the n is silent)
At first glance it looks like a waster sword, (wooden practice sword) approximately 30-40cm long and can be as wide as a man's hand, at the blades girth. The blade is potted and gnarled with marks and scars and looks like a resin encrusted, dense matt of fibres.
The sword is light in comparison to simple wood but very strong. Its single edge, is not as sharp or thin as its steel counterparts, relying more so on a chemical, to etch and burn its way through organic materials.
Its ability, to allow, non organic, items to, phase through its blade, is by far the sword's most outstanding property.

A Serivemn, is a living plant or at least part of it is. Its ‘lignophilic' (latin -biology, thriving in or on wood) In the hands of a non-[Vissealists], the sword is but a piece of wood and if not cared for, would die and become brittle. The [Vissealists] keep its creation and care, like most things, in a furtive manner. We know there is an emotional bond, between owner and sword. A unique emotional print, that the sword recognises in its owner. It ‘tastes' these emotions from its owner, as electro-chemical signals, through its hilt. Using emotions, the owner can provoke certain chemicals, thus controlling the two most important aspects of the sword.

Phase Through
The most outstanding property of the sword, is its ability to allow things, typically weapons, to magically ‘pass through' its blade. Under control of its owner, it can present itself in its default, solid, state or allow non organics to phase through, like a corporeal encounter.
Electro-chemical signals flow from hilt to blade tip, reactions to such signals, within the blade, cause vibration and separation of the molecules. The loosening of the molecules is localised to the entry point of the foreign matter. It grows like a tear, from the impact area and closes back upon itself, as the item passes through.
The age of a Serivemn or at least, its encounters with battle, can be determined by the number of scars found along its blade. Each time it is torn and reassembles itself, there is some mismatching of the molecules. This is what creates the various marks and scar like tissue formations.

Chemical acid cutting
Under its owner's command an acid like moisture forms in minute beads along the blade's edge. These chemicals tend to burn their way through organic materials, rather than cut. Like the phase through aspect, these secretions are controlled by electro-chemical signals, from the owner, through the swords hilt.

In the hands of a skilled master it is quite possible for the blade to phase through an enemies thin body armour, reassemble on the other side, secrete its chemicals, producing a painful penetration into skin and bone.

History
The Serivemn was always thought to posses magic. Their owner's, the Vissealists, are a non aggressive and secretive society. On the odd occasion when these people did react to aggression, application of the weapon looked magical. Quickly and expertly reducing their foe's to a quivering, painful wreck.
It is believed to be the only item that has ever been extricated from the Yinnal Canopy. The sword is an indication, that there may indeed be, some interaction or historic link between the Vissealists, their vissewort plants and the Yinnal Canopy. Rumours suggest the sword is made from a Yinnal tree root surrounded by living Yinnal Vine. The Yinnal tree dates back to the beginning of time itself and with it, possibly, so does the sword. The Yinnal Vine certainly secretes caustic substances , this may explain the fundamentals of the sword's ability to chemically cut. As for its ability to phase, one is not sure if this is, extreme science or simply magic.

Story example
Broad shouldered and trained in combat, Methnik eyed his opponent. 'This would be all too easy' he thought to himself. The individual before him, looked to defend himself with only two, beaten up, old waster swords. Methnik raised his claymore, he felt its weight, its power, he could see the steel glint in the light. His claymore would break those sticks of wood, slice his foe in half from head to foot and all in one swipe. His foe raised the wooden swords in a cross formation, in front of and above his face. 'You mock me sir' cried Methnik, as he stepped forward, adding his body weight to the downward blow. Aiming with all his strength, his blade to splinter the crossed swords at their intersection. His foe moved adeptly sideways, as if in some dance, the crossed swords moving to his left, surely a feeble attempt to deflect the claymores arc. The swords clashed, but not as expected. Methnik's blade slipped through the waster swords like magic, as if they weren't there at all. No sound of shatter, no eruption of splintered wood. The blade scrapped only upon his foes left sword, which angled the blow towards the floor. The right sword, the cross, gave no check to the blow at all, his blade just slipped through like a ghost. Some magicians trick? The weight he had thrown into his sword's swing, was now working against him, his bodies momentum now pulled by the sword's trajectory. He toppled off balance, forward, as the claymore dug deep into the ground, with a dampened clunk. Methnik's eyes met his foe's, they were almost face to face, his foe's wooden toy sword, the right one, the one he surely should have decapitated, hovered just below his neck. Methnik's momentum was still carrying him forward, his head, neck and chest propelled by his initial thrust. Within inches of his foe's sword now, Methnik's eyes took in the gnarled and scarred surface of the wooden blade, its edge looked wet, gleaming with minute droplets. All too late, the blade was at his neck, it burnt, stinging like acid, it slivered through his skin and muscle. Methnik crumpled to his knees, then to the floor, his eyes greyed over and he heard faint words, maybe those of his foe he thought? 'Your last lesson in this life. Your teacher? A Serivemn'