You have what?! On your equipment list? For real?
LLorryn of Rydlin crafted charms and magic items over his lifetime. All are known for his trademark, the ringing sound caused by the magic flowing through them. While bards have granted fame to his thirteen Singing blades, among warriors and weaponsmiths, he is best known for his "singing knives".
LLorryn of Rydlin crafted thirteen of the famed Singing Blades, as well as numerous other charms and magic items. All are known for his trademark, the ringing sound caused by the magic flowing through them. The Swords are his best known body of work.
"So it is old," I said.
"Older than you know," The White Beard murmered.
"I have never seen a blade of this type," I said swinging it experimentally.
"It is a Middle Blade. They are made not in these times, but in Albinion Era after the fall of the Empire, made, they were," The Wise One said.
"It is truly old then, almost as old as you…"
The White Beard just sighed.
I saw him pull that odd piece out once more, using it to fiddled with the lock. He open the big fold, and flipped out one long thin piece. He pulled a single piece out from a slide and fiddled in the lock. He stopped, smirked, and flipping out a small thin scraping tool he began to probe the area around the lock. “Trapped,” he said.
The tradition of Battle Sashes is only a century or two old. It started in Celedor by the River, but it has been adopted in every part of the WestLands. Given the presence of blood, spirit and honor, it was only a matter of time until magic became involved.
These are the traditional honor weapons of the legendary Blades of the Golden Sun. It is with these weapons that they defended the Imperial Realm from the Taint of Shadow. Or so some say.
He was frantically pointing towards the glowing mountain. “We need to cast The Spell!”, Bothar screamed!
I held up the scroll we all had risked our lives to get. “Nobody can cast this spell without a prepared mystic space and ritual equipment. It would be suicide,” I said. “Not even him,” I jerked my thumb towards the Magi who smiled slyly.
Silently, he unstrapped that bolt of cloth he had been carrying since I had known him. He unfurled it, tamped it down, with small spikes, pulled a small apothecary chest out, placed and lit four candles on the cloth, drew some lines with some handy chalk, unpacked his remaining tools, then he held his hand out expectantly for the scroll. It took a fraction of a candle mark.
“Solomontic Rug,” he said quietly. “The key to mastery is knowing and having the right tools, be they physical, mental, or magical, and having them ready when you need them.”
The passenger said, “It sounds like your wind chime is broken, or at least out of tune.” The first mate just smiled. “That chime is music to a sailor’s ears, it is,” he said. “We will have smooth sailing this day.”
It was a fine harness and reins. The leather was soft and well tooled. The bit was so shiney one thought it could be silver. It looked like no bit and bridle that he had ever seen. Yet, it seemed familiar, like he had heard stories about this before.
Forged with the souls of 12 good lawmen fighting The Darkness, carried by the 13th, the lone survivor, these shining irons have become legendary weapons for The Light.
Thirteen hundred years ago, a mad powerful wizard had an estate in the area that became the county of Corvis. Over his 800 year span, he created thousands of magikal items of various types and power level. While many were "mighty", there were a large number of lesser and trivial orbs and trinkets. This is their scroll
CityCairns are one of the three Keystones of Elventi Society; allowing Elves to live in harmony their beloved forests. Without these stone pylons, there would be no Elventi Society.
They stood on the crest of the rise, three men deep. Their banners, Golden Lions Rampant on a split field of red and blue, fluttering on long poles in the wind. They were silent. By some signal, they all began to rush forward screaming their battle roar. Halberd and blade coming open on the move. The enemy line broke under the power of the Lion’s signature charge.
Major Advarete, Memoirs of the Twin Rose Wars 1320 Greenfield Presses
Falconry and Hawking has been important skill in a variety of places through out history. It is the sport of nobles and nomads, and many in between. In some places and times, Raptors are bonded to people, using their magic connection to everyones benefit. It is only natural that magical items connected to raptors and Hawking came into existence.
A shadow shrine is an elegant solution to a complicated problem for those that are Godsworn.
“The Monarch is Eternal. We care not what he looks like. He gives up himself being himself to be the ruler of the country. “
Chancellor Richelius at the Court of Aldophus IV 1620
The Rebec came from the Arabian rabob. It has been known in Europe since the 10th century but their use in art music was chiefly during the Middle Ages and Renaissance.
The Organetto is a personal organ that puts out full range sound. Yes this is a real world musical item, but it is so “out of most people’s experience” that nobody realizes it exists.
The Lizard (tenor cornett) is a real world musical item, but they are so “out of most people’s experience” that nobody realizes it.
The third son of a candle-maker, and secretly a spy, Tsiao Fong Wei betrayed his family, clan, and town to the merciless Qongg Dynasty, causing the deaths of his own family members. He survived to an old age hiding out in the country side and keeping a low profile. One day however, the “Paper Knife” finally found Tsiao Fong Wei , and exacted his revenge on behalf of the folk, dead and tortured.
After a furious struggle, the “Paper Knife” plunged twin burning candles into the eyes of the traitorous old man and laughed, as Tsiao Fong Wei howled in dismay and pain. Some say Tsiao Fong Wei died that day. Others say that the old man somehow escaped despite his sudden anguish and utter blindness.
The truth is lost to time.
But to this day the children of the Red-Ridge County towns and villages are told by their parents to always beware twin lights in the darkness and to never venture into the woods at night, and to keep an ear open for the Groaning Ghost, for somewhere out there Tsiao Fong Wei the Traitor, now a vengeful spirit, stumbles about the darkness moaning and wailing, candles still sticking forth from out of his otherwise empty eye sockets. And though the candles plunged into his eyes all those years ago were a’flame going in, now the wax protuberances are somehow lit from within and burn without, and two flickering lights in the darkness, always portend his coming.