Riffing off the last post: The "biography" of Magard's Life-Quencher, a +4 magical long sword.
Created by Turvang the Mage-Smith (7th level Magic-User) as a gift for the Overlord of Thollox, the weapon served as little more than a heirloom for the first thousand years of its existence. Following the fall of Thollox, the Life-Quencher came into the possession of Darnesh the Dog-Fucker, High Chief of the Horde Clans. Many years later, an elderly Darnesh met an ugly end at the hands of a young Lord Garth and his seven paladins. An elderly Garth bequeathed the blade to his only child, a girl named Arveeth, who eventually took up the family practice of quashing local brigands and horde-masters. Middle-aged Arveeth died nobly with her company at Somber Pass, pierced by a poisoned goblin arrow. Thus the Life-Quencher came to King Gash-Face the Third, nominal ruler of all goblin-kind. Gash-Face's distant descendant, Squish-Fly the Thane, was assassinated by his younger cousin, Crude-Lips, who made off with his wives and his ancestral sword. Crude-Lips' great-grand-nephew lost the sword in a high-stakes game of Blacktrumps to a sleazy adventurer named Magard.
Okay, so using the Magical Half-Life formula (see last post), we can determine that the Life-Quencer has a maximum longevity of 3,500 years (MHL 1,750). By the time it came to Darnesh the blade was approximately 1,000 years old. We can estimate that another 150 years went by as the sword went from Lord Garth to King Gash-Face. Another 400 years passed as it went from Gash-Face to Crude-Lips. Then another 200 years from Crude-Lips' scions to Magard the sleazy adventurer. By that time, the Life-Quencher was just about 1,750 years old. It had reached its half-life.
This sea-change was unfortunate for old Magard, because his enchanted weapon developed an irritating minor defect: Unbeknownst to him, some strange degradation in the blade's magical bindings had rendered the thing into a sort of stirge-magnet. Everywhere he went the things flocked in ever-increasing numbers. Visits from Magard would herald the destruction of entire villages, so that eventually the adventurer was exiled to wander alone in the Wastes. Strangely, the stirges never bothered with him personally. They simply wanted to be near the sword. Something about the sight of it seemed to excite them, so that the stupid beasts stayed by it well after the warrior's death from starvation. For weeks they circled the site of Magard's decaying remains, then they too began to drop dead. Some say the sword still rests somewhere out there in the Wastes, girdled by macabre heaps of bleached stirge bones.