Perhaps the first fae/elemental spirit/minor deity who decided to pierce the sediment with a blade coursing with pseudo-divine potential - to protect a particularly poignant picnic location from the forces of mayhem and their many-legged minions - had only the best of intentions.

But in matters of magic and manners, you can have too much of a good thing.

Now you’ve got mages aplenty stabbing perfectly good tree-roots with otherwise nondescript weaponry - from an armory that the Goddess once surveyed upon a particularly tiresome state visit - to betray entropy and hold back the march of time.

There’s even a black market in once-mystical blades for lovers to pierce the doorstep and seal themselves in, to drive away unwanted familial visits and the aforementioned many-legged minions of evil.

The trouble isn’t simply a matter of excessively littering of pointy relics in our natural beautyspots, oh no.

You see, there’s an inherent peril in a profusion of once-potent magical artifacts just dangling around waiting for some prophecy-licked teen to trip over them - often literally on/in their doorstep.

Pulling sword from stone ain’t half as difficult as they make it out to be, but they’ve gotta make it sound legitimate, after all!