When I think of Wyr, my mind doesn't immediately lock onto the mechanics of the things. I don't think about sockets or customization, buffs or abilities, or how awesome it'll be to walk around guttin' Ukar with a sword that has little chunks of fallen heroes socketed to it. No, when I hear the word Wyr, I get all misty-eyed because I know they came as blood payment for all those poor, unfortunate souls who died during the Sundering.
Y'see, Wyr are far more than just wicked-cool trinkets you carry around with you to make you stronger, faster, and glowier than ever. They’re living history, magically-infused kernels of Elanthia’s past and the embodiment of Elanthia herself. They take on the voice of a planet so riddled with tragic history that you'd be hard pressed to take a single step in any direction without stepping all over the bones of somebody's ancestors. Wyr are the voice of the planet, and they scream bloody murder.