Zounds! A Sword!

There's an earlier Ouroboros post that mentions a "hawker of cursed and brittle swords" with d10 in stock at all times. Since we've got plenty of 10-entry tables and hey, swords are fun, here are 10 brittle swords and 10 curses they may carry.

Joachim Meyer

Brittle Swords

1	Zweihander, all of green glass, chipped edges, grip bound in fragile leather prone to tear, easy to cut yourself holding this one, shatters against heavy armor.
2	Child's rapier with the point of a needle, guard crudely-wrought in the image of a gape-mouthed face vomiting forth the blade, thin enough to plunge through the gaps in mail.
3	Foreign cutlass of blood iron, not crimson and beautiful but flawed with muddy brown like an old battlefield, wrong edge serrated, better at cutting throats than armor.
4	Centuries-old sabre stolen from the castrati spider regiments, black blade crusted with old toxins, if it tastes blood again it will drip deadly venom like a new wound.
5	Baselard, pitted and scored as if dipped in acid, will snap off inside the first foe it strikes, even if they get away sepsis will end their lives within a miserable week.
6	Shining steel broadsword, missing its guard, pommel unbound, strangely weighted and overall just too heavy for anything but two-handed use.
7	Obscenely large cleaver, over-long and hooked at the end, might be a better climbing tool than weapon, will be dulled quickly on anything but flesh.
8	Clay estoc, pierces even heavy armor but breaks as soon as it lands a blow, never to be reassembled.
9	Exquisite flammard, twisting blade inscribed with golden runes, gilded guard, easily turns aside the enemy blades but useless outside a duel.
10	Jagged stub of an elvish yatagan, still viciously deadly against unarmored plebeians and other elves, carves through anything like butter, only a few more blows in it before shattering.

Curses

1	There is a malignant ugliness about the sword, hidden until elves come across you wielding it. They must save or attack you, disgusted that they must now cross swords with such an abomination.
2	This is a storied blade, one that attracts all the wrong kind of attention. Criminals and scum-folk in your presence must save or offer you a lucrative opportunity for wetwork (maybe this isn't bad to you, but others will surely overhear).
3	Belongs to another Ouroboros, seeks to return home, whenever you walk the city alone you must save or find yourself in this alternate realm, at first briefly but longer and longer each time.
4	Corruption spills from the blade onto your skin, deepening and spreading up your arm whenever you strike down a foe, slowly driving you to kill again, faster this time, more bloodily the next, and so on.
5	Children (of any being) will always be alerted to your presence, crying for their mothers and making a general racket as you approach.
6	Visions of the old wielder plague you, but are they past or present? Either way, you notice people in these waking dreams that have begun to follow you in real life: what do the faceless women want?
7	Something lives within the metal, a cold and alien intelligence, thirst not for blood but pain. It will fuel the strength of your arm, but what does it ask for in return? Mutilation of the highborn.
8	Your fortunes have swung wildly ever since taking up this sword. When you wield the blade odd results on checks are now always successes, evens are always failures (maybe this is good for you).
9	Change is coming over you, too slow to notice. You no longer sleep. Soon you do not blink, barely eat or drink. You crave the stuff of dreams, and night finds you stalking the streets, hunting for an open window, an unlocked door. You are becoming.
10	An old trick by a mischievous lady in waiting: you will become an elf. It has already begun. Do not expect pointy ears immediately. Expect hideous mutation, wrack and ruin, extra membranes in all the wrong places, skin like batwings. The transition will be painful and uncertain.

Talbot Hughes