“It is your move.”
This Codex is sealed in either a tube or box, containing some works of great age. The scrolls and papers will be of a language of great antiquity. These scrolls are cut up and pressed flat into a leafed book, called a codex. While the works are not magical, they might as well be, for they can change the world.
It appears to be an older, above average quality taptestry. The subject is unimportant, so some are religious, others are landscapes, others portaits of kings/ queens, some portray ancient cities. However, you can lose yourself in one.
It appears to be a very nice holy book of the dominant good faith, the kind that his passed down from generation to generation. The binding is leather and quite plain, but the inside is nicely scribed and occasionally illuminated. A pity that it will lead you down the Path of Darkness the moment you understand its secret.
“It is just a locket for portraits of loved ones. It is quite old, but I will sell it to you for cheap. ”
Will the mask smile for you or frown? Do you know who you are? Do you really?
Being alligned with Evil does tend to make the afterlife a little less appealing. Unless one can somehow claw their way up the heirarchy immediately, one should be looking towards a long, long, long, time of torture and servitude to greater spirits, before any chance of reincarnation will occur. One of the first things Smart Evil Cultists and Priests learn is how to avoid final death.
“Heel!” “Roll over!” “Sit!” “Sit Up!” “Beg!” “Speak!” Cue Evil Laugh.
“He looks so regal in his riding gear, carrying his riding crop.” “He looks good without it. He always carries his crop too. He just loves riding.”
“This? It is pretty isn’t it? No it is not new. My mother had it.”
Calvinus was one of the finest sculpters known to history. While he performed many an exceptional pieces of historical figures, he is best known for his “inspired” pieces - pieces he created out of his own memory. He said he would go into his studio alone, then just “bang out” a piece without break. This process explains his prodigeous output. There are several dozen exceptionally lifelike women (and a few men). Most are beautiful and scantily clothed, but his “Old Washer Woman” is a master piece. Many countries consider Statues by Calvinus to be national treasures.
Note From MoonHunter: I finally found the one piece we have been missing from the Garage Sale from Hell thread this entire time. A magic item that every covert Evil Cultist and Demon worshiper must have… a lucky piece.
Nobody calls it a Chamberpot of Holy Blessings. It is just another chamberpot. It is a secret item, nobody actually knows it exists.
It is a nice fluffy pillow, filled with soft down, covered in a soft, nice fabric. It is soooo comfortable. *yawn* You could just nod offffff when layyyying on .......... *snore*
The crucifix (or insert holy pendant of your good mainstream religion of choice) is fairly old, more elaborate than normal, and would usually only be worn by someone of great piety or a female of some piety.
The ring was an item he was always wearing; innocuous enough that no one would question it. It became his perfect tool of power.
“And now Ladies, Lords, and Gentlemen,” I bring your attention to Lot 14. This is hodgepodge of personal effects that I am sure you will find interesting. If you see anything that peaks your interest, buy it and the entire lot for cheap. Now I start the bidding at .....”
The Signet Ring of the House Malenti (minor noble house) has more than a minor political power associated with it. It “seals the soul” of any it touches (with intent).
This crystal looks like just another babble, like a multifaceted lead glass paperweight found in any stationary store. This hides its sinister purpose
In Antioch, since the invention of the impressor (the printing press), books have been the “in thing”. Here are some of the most common ones.
Idea from the Aeneid. Could make an intriguing encounter when searching for firewood..."Quite near there happened to be a mound of earth, at the highest part of which were growing thickets of cornel and a dense cluster of spiky myrtle-stems. I went up there and tried to wrench the green growth from the ground to provide a leafy covering for our altar. There I was confronted by a horrible and astounding miracle. For from the first bush which I tried to break off...blood oozed in dark drops, fouling the earth with its spots...A piteous moan came from the base of the mound and I heard a human voice answering me: 'Why, Aeneas, must you rend a poor sufferer? I am buried here...for I am Polydorus. Here death overpowered me in a crop of piercing iron-pointed spears. And so a crop resembling javelins has grown over me...'"